In the midst of the world, there dwells a great lord whose fullness radiates from afar, yet when there is lack, he is diminished. To him, the rulers of the people bring their tribute, honoring his vast presence. From the place where the sun rises to where it sets, that alone is considered the greatest; nothing surpasses this radiance. Those who speak of ancient, present, or middle knowledge, all declare the sun as the first, fire as the second, and the swan with three wings as the third. With a thousand days, the swift swan flies through the sky to heaven, bearing all the gods upon his breast and beholding all the worlds. By truth, he blazes upward; by the sacred word, he looks downward; by breath, he moves across, in whom the greatest is established. Whoever knows the two kindling sticks by which the treasure is produced, being wise, should consider the greatest and know the great Brāhmaṇa. At first, he was born without feet, then bore the sound at the beginning; becoming four-footed and fit for enjoyment, he claimed all food as his own. Having become fit for enjoyment, he gave much food, and whoever worships the eternal god, the one who is beyond, attains him. He is called eternal, yet today he may become new again; day and night are born, each with their own form. His parts are innumerable—hundreds, thousands, ten thousands, hundreds of millions—all established within him. These, seeing, strike at him, and thus the god shines forth—this is that. There is a child, one very small, and another who cannot be seen at all; yet there is a goddess, more embracing than these, who is dear. This auspicious one, ageless and immortal, dwells in the mortal’s house; for whom she is made to lie, he who made her, he becomes worn out. You are woman, you are man; you are boy and girl. You are the old one who walks with a staff; you are born, becoming one with faces in all directions. You are their father or their son; you are among them the eldest or the youngest. The one god, entered into the mind, was born first; he is within the womb. From fullness, fullness arises; fullness is filled with fullness. May we know today from where that is poured forth. This one is ancient, ever new, born again and again; she became all, the ancient one. The great goddess, the dawn, shines forth, and with each one, she is seen by the seer. Avirvai is the name of the goddess by whom all is surrounded; by her form, the trees are green, adorned with green garlands. She does not abandon one who is near, yet she does not see one who is near. Behold the wonder of the god: she neither dies nor grows old. Urged by the unprecedented, they speak words as is fitting; wherever they go, those who speak are said to be the great Brāhmaṇa. Where gods and humans, like spokes in a hub, are established, the flower of the waters is asked—where is that, set by illusion? By whom is the wind driven to blow? Who gives the five directions together? Who, thinking themselves possessed of offerings, are the gods, leaders of the waters—who were they? Of these, one dwells on earth, one moves about in the atmosphere; one gives them the sky, who is the arranger; others guard all the regions. He who knows the thread stretched out, in which these creatures are woven; he who knows the thread of the thread, he knows the great Brāhmaṇa. I know the thread stretched out, in which these creatures are woven; I know the thread of the thread, and thus the great Brāhmaṇa. Between heaven and earth, Agni burns, consuming all that can be burned; where he stood with a single wife, beyond that—where was Mātariśvan then? Mātariśvan entered into the waters; the gods entered into the waters. The great one stood as the measure of the dust, the purifier entered the green. He strode above the immortal Gāyatrī in the north; those who know the Sāman by the Sāman saw that region—where? The dwelling, the meeting place of treasures, is like the god Savitṛ, true in law; Indra did not stand in the contest for riches. Within the lotus of nine gates, enveloped by the three qualities, if there is a lordly self, that indeed is known by those who know Brahman. Desireless, steadfast, immortal, self-born, satisfied with essence, lacking nothing from anywhere—knowing him alone, one does not fear death: the self, firm, ageless, ever young. Let our mouths not speak evil; let the thunderbolt be directed at our rivals. The first, hundred-feeding, given by Indra, slayer of enemies, is the path of the sacrificer. Let your hide become the altar, your hairs the sacred grass. This binding strap I take for you; let this stone dance upon you. Let your young ones be the sprinklers; let the tongue cleanse, O uninjurable one. Being pure and fit for sacrifice, ascend to heaven, O hundred-feeding one. He who cooks the hundred-feeding one with desire is fit; for him, all the priests are pleased and proceed as is proper. He ascends to heaven, to the undisturbed world of the gods, who, having made the offering, gives the hundred-feeding one. He attains all those worlds, both celestial and terrestrial, who, having made the offering with golden light, gives the hundred-feeding one. Those, O goddess, who are your butchers, your cooks, and your people—all will protect you; do not fear us, O hundred-feeding one. May the Vasus guard you to the south, the Maruts to the north; may the Ādityas guard you from behind. Run forth with the Agniṣṭoma. The gods, ancestors, humans, Gandharvas, and Apsarases—all will protect you. Run forth with the Sātirātra. He attains all the worlds—atmosphere, heaven, earth, the Ādityas, the Maruts, the directions—who gives the hundred-feeding one.