Jātavedas, the sacred fire, is invoked to seize the departed, his brilliance summoned to be strong and unwavering. The fire is entreated to burn the body completely, consuming it in its purifying flames, and in return, to grant the soul a place among the righteous in the world beyond. A prayer is then offered for the ancestors—those who have gone before and those yet to come—wishing that a stream of pure ghee may flow to them, a hundredfold, nourishing and honoring them in their realm. The spirit of the departed is urged to ascend upon the wind, purified and shining, to find its true home. It is encouraged to move forward through the midst, not to look back, but to journey to the world of the Fathers, the first ancestors who once walked the earth. Jātavedas is again invoked, this time to accompany the soul along the paths of the Fathers, lifting it up together with the sacred fire. As the carrier of offerings, sent forth by the oblation, the fire is asked to bear the sacrificer—yoked and ready—to the world of the righteous. The immortal gods, made so through sacrifice, are described as preparing the offering: the sacrificial cake, the ladles, and all ritual implements. With these, the soul is encouraged to proceed along the divine paths, those same paths by which those who perform sacrifices reach the heavenly worlds. The righteous path is revealed to Angiras, the path of truth by which the virtuous ascend. With these sacred ways, the soul is to proceed to heaven, to the realm where the Adityas delight in sweetness, ascending to the third heaven to take its place among the blessed. Above, three splendid birds stand as guardians of the upper realm, stationed on the ridge of heaven in the highest expanse. These heavenly worlds, filled with immortality, offer nourishment and strength to the sacrificer, sustaining those who have made the journey. On earth, a prayer rises for unity and abundance: let the rivers flow together, the winds unite, and the birds gather. May the sacrifice be increased, the offering poured out in a flowing stream, accompanied by sacred words. The community is called to protect and pour forth the sacrifice, wishing for its increase, and again, the offering is made with words as a river of oblation. Over time and form, age after age, all things are invoked to join and embrace the sacrifice. The four directions are called upon to increase it, and once more, the offering is made with words and a flowing stream. Blessings are sought from the waters: may those from the Himalayas, from the lakes, the settling waters, and the rainy waters all bring well-being. Further, the waters from deserts, from marshes, those drawn by digging, and those carried in jars are all invoked for well-being. The deep, cloudless waters, when drawn, are profound. Among all healers, these waters are the most healing, and they are called upon for their power. Having partaken of the celestial waters, the streams of the heavens, and having gathered together, the prayer is for swiftness and vitality, like strong horses. These waters are declared auspicious, capable of removing disease. As satisfaction comes from them, so too may they grant healing remedies. From every realm—heaven and earth, the space between, the trees and herbs—wherever the sacred fire is honored and welcomed, a prayer is made for its presence. Agni’s greatness is praised: in the waters, the forests, the herbs, the animals, and all the waters within. All these forms are called to be gathered together, and with them, Agni is invoked as the generous giver of wealth. Among the gods, Agni’s greatness is heavenly; among the ancestors, his form is present. The prosperity he spreads among humans is desired, and a prayer is offered for wealth. To the wise, the learned, and the attentive, words and speech are offered in hope of favor. Where there is fear, may there be safety. Agni is asked to worship the gods and avert all harm. The first offering, made by Atharvan, is recalled—the offering that was born, prepared by the sacred fire. This first, primal offering is invoked, with a prayer that Agni, urged by these rites, will carry the oblation to himself. The divine impulse, gracious and auspicious, mother of thought, is placed before the worshipper. May she be favorable, may the impulse desired enter the mind as wished. Brihaspati is invoked by impulse to come near, to grant a share of fortune, and to be gracious. Brihaspati, descendant of Angiras, is asked to acknowledge these words, he whose divinities became the gods. May well-guided desires follow the worshippers. Indra is proclaimed king over all the moving peoples, over the earth and all its manifold forms. From this dominion, he gives wealth to the worshipper, bringing it near even from afar when praised. Then, the vision turns to the Person, the cosmic being, who has a thousand arms, a thousand eyes, a thousand feet. Encompassing the earth on every side, he extends beyond it by ten fingers’ breadth. With three steps, he ascended to the sky, and with the fourth, he remained here again. Thus, he spread out everywhere, present in all that eats and does not eat. Such is his greatness, yet the Person is greater still. One fourth of him is all beings; three fourths are immortal in heaven. The Person is all that exists—what has been and what will be. He is the lord of immortality, and all that grows together with him belongs to him. When the Person was divided, the question arose: into how many was he apportioned? What became his mouth, his arms, his thighs, his feet? His mouth became the Brāhmaṇa, his arms the Rājanya; his middle became the Vaiśya, and from his feet was born the Śūdra. The moon was born from his mind, the sun from his eye; from his mouth came Indra and Agni, and from his breath, Vāyu. From his navel arose the midspace, from his head the sky was fashioned; from his feet the earth, from his ears the directions—the worlds were thus arranged. In the beginning, Virāj was born, and from Virāj, the Person. Once born, he spread out beyond the earth, both behind and before. When the gods performed sacrifice with the Person as the offering, spring was the clarified butter, summer the fuel, and autumn the oblation. They anointed that sacrifice, the first-born Person, with the rains; with it, the gods, the Sādhyas, and the Vasus sacrificed. From that fully offered sacrifice, horses were born, and all creatures with two rows of teeth; cows, goats, and sheep also arose from it. From that sacrifice, the Ṛc and Sāman hymns were born, the meters, and the Yajus as well. From that sacrifice, the mixed butter was gathered, and animals were created—those of the air, the forest, and the village. Seven were its enclosing logs, three times seven the kindling sticks arranged, when the gods, performing the sacrifice, bound the Person as the sacrificial animal. From the head of the great god, the king Soma, seventy-seven portions were born after the Person was created. Thus, through sacrifice and sacred fire, through water and unity, through the cosmic Person and the gods, the world and its beings came into being, and the way to immortality was revealed.