As the sun descends and the world is embraced by darkness, the ancient seers raise their voices in reverence to the night. They call upon her, the gentle yet powerful guardian, to protect all that moves and breathes: the birds that fly above, the creatures that creep below, and every wild being that roams the mountains. “O Night,” they pray, “shield us from every side—from behind, from before, from the north, and from below. Protect us, radiant one, for we are your devoted singers.” The night is not alone in her vigilance. Alongside her, unseen watchers remain awake, guarding all living beings and watching over the cattle, ensuring safety through the silent hours. Bharadvāja, the sage, knows the night’s sacred name—Ghee-anointed—and calls upon her wisdom to watch over their wealth. Night is praised as an active maiden, ever youthful and self-restrained, belonging to the gods Savitar and Bhaga. She shines with the brightness of a horse, gracious and splendid, filling the vastness of heaven and earth. She surpasses all things, profound and lofty, her greatness unmatched even by the most renowned. In her wake stands the shining night, bestowing blessings, just as Mitra upholds his ordinances. The seers offer their praises to this excellent, fortunate, and noble night, seeking a tranquil mind and protection from dangers—whether born of men, of cattle, or from prosperity itself. Night, in her brilliance, has gathered the strength of lion, panther, tiger, and leopard, the whiteness of the horse, the vigor of man; and as dawn approaches, she gives birth to countless forms. They beseech the auspicious night, mother of the cool, to be gracious as she follows the sun, and to heed the hymn offered in her honor. As a king delights in praise, so does night rejoice in these hymns. The seers pray for victory and wisdom, as night, the shining one, yields to dawn. The night, assuming the name ‘peaceful’ for the sake of her devotees, is asked to drive away those who covet their wealth. “O sleepless one,” they pray, “banish them to places where thieves are never found.” Night is auspicious, steadfast as a cup not overturned, bearing all forms of cattle and never abandoning the earth, just as the sky remains constant. Should a thief, wrongdoer, or enemy arise, the seers ask that night strike him down, rendering his feet immobile and his hands powerless, so that he perishes, unable to escape his fate. They call upon night to subdue dangers: to make powerless the headless serpent, to break the wolf’s dice, and to strike down thieves lurking in the thicket. Night’s own oxen, fierce and strong, are invoked to lead the people safely across all perils. Night after night, may they endure and cross over dangers, as those who cannot be drowned cross deep waters, ensuring enemies do not prevail over them. Just as a withered stalk falls and is left behind by the wind, so may night cast down those who wish them harm. They plead for the removal of thieves, cattle-stealers, and robbers, and for protection even against those who would take the horse’s head. Whatever wealth is divided, whatever sustenance is given, may night provide her share as she does for others. As night gives way to dawn, may all be delivered unharmed to the new day, for night, though without hands, is radiant and gracious. From this sacred night, the hymn turns to the vastness of being. “I am ten thousand,” the seer proclaims, “myself, my eyes, my ears, my breath—all are ten thousand. I am all, ten thousand.” He seizes this truth, born from the divine impulse of Savitar, from the arms of the Ashvins, from the hands of Pushan. In the beginning, desire arose—the first seed of mind. The seers call upon Desire, united with the great Desire, to grant prosperity and wealth to the worshipper. Desire, established with force, manifests in many forms, a friend to friends, mighty in battle, and bestower of strength. Hopes listen to those who long from afar, and with Desire, they generate their own light. They pray that Desire may flow from heart to heart, that the exhilaration and thoughts of the people may come to them. Whatever acts are performed, seeking Desire, are offerings to her; may all prosper, and may Desire accept these offerings—svaha. Time is then invoked, depicted as a horse with seven rays, bearing all beings with a thousand eyes, ageless and mighty. The wise ascend upon him, for his wheels are all the worlds. Time carries seven wheels and seven mouths, his navel immortal, his axis eternal. He moves all worlds, advancing as the first god. A full jar is set upon Time, who appears in many forms. He moves all worlds, and is called the highest heaven. He alone encompasses and encircles all the worlds, becoming both father and son; none surpass his brilliance. Time generated heaven and earth; in Time, the past and future and all actions stand firm. Time created all beings; in Time, the sun burns, all beings exist, and the eye sees. Mind, breath, and names are gathered in Time; and when Time arrives, all creatures rejoice. In Time are found austerity, supremacy, and the gathered Brahman. Time is the lord of all, the father of Prajapati. By Time, everything is driven, born, and established. Time, having become Brahman, upholds the supreme lord. In the beginning, Time created Prajapati; from Time arose the self-born Kashyapa and austerity itself. From Time arose the waters, Brahman, austerity, and the directions. The sun rises and sets by Time. By Time the wind blows, by Time the great earth stands firm, and the vast sky is established. Thus, through the sacred hymns, the seers reveal the mysteries of night, desire, and time—each a guardian, a bestower, and a foundation for all that exists.