When the sage found himself unable to discover the limits of that vast, wondrous body, he turned in earnest devotion to the boon-giving Lord, seeking refuge in Him. Then, by the force of the wind, he was suddenly swept out from the open mouth of that great-souled Being, emerging into the world once more. Upon exiting from the divine belly, the sage beheld the earth transformed: it was now a single, boundless ocean, empty of all people. As before, he saw the same God—still in the enchanting form of a child—seated serenely upon a couch fashioned from the branch of a banyan tree. The Lord bore the mark of Śrīvatsa on His chest, was clothed in radiant yellow garments, and possessed four arms. He held the universe itself, and His eyes were wide and beautiful like the petals of a lotus. Seeing the sage approach, floating and unconscious after emerging from His mouth, the divine child smiled and spoke soothingly: “Child, did you rest within my belly? As you wandered there, did you witness anything wondrous?” He continued, “You are my devotee, O best of sages. Weary and having sought shelter in me, I now speak to you for your benefit—look upon me here.” Hearing these words, the sage was overwhelmed with joy; his hair stood on end, and he gazed upon the Lord, who was resplendent and adorned with divine jewels, difficult for even the gods to behold. In that very moment, by the Lord’s grace, the sage’s vision became clear and pure, and a new, deeper sight arose within him. With his head bowed in reverence, he touched the Lord’s feet—red at the tips and worshipped by the gods—and, his voice choked with emotion, he spoke. With joined hands, delighted and astonished again and again by the sight of the Supreme Self, the sage began to offer his heartfelt praises: “O God of gods, Lord of the universe, you who appear as a magical child—protect me, O beautiful lotus-eyed one! I am suffering and have come to you for refuge. I am tormented by the terrible fire called Saṃvartaka and frightened by the rain of embers; protect me, O Supreme Person. The fierce wind—life-breath of the universe—has dried me up; I am distressed and weary. Save me, O Supreme Person. I am scorched by the ministers of destruction, by whirlwinds of dissolution and the like; I find no peace—protect me, O Supreme Person. Thirsty, hungry, and suffering, O Lord of the world, I see no protector here but you. Save me, O Supreme Person. “In this dreadful, solitary ocean, where all beings—moving and unmoving—have been destroyed, I find no end. Save me, O Supreme Person. Within your belly, O Lord of gods, I have seen all that moves and does not move. I am astonished and distressed—save me, O Supreme Person. “In this world without support, be gracious, O Supreme Person; be gracious, O best of gods; be gracious, O beloved of the gods. Be gracious, O Lord of the gods, abode of the gods, Lord of all worlds, cause of the cause of the universe. Be gracious, O creator, O sustainer, O dweller in the waters, O slayer of Madhu. Be gracious, beloved of Lakshmi, lord of the thirty gods, slayer of Kamsa and Keshi, destroyer of Arishta. Be gracious, O Krishna, destroyer of demons and Danavas, dweller in Mathura, joy of the Yadus. Be gracious, younger brother of Indra, giver of boons, imperishable one. You are the earth, the water, the fire, the wind. You are the sky, the mind, the ego; you are intelligence and nature, and all the qualities beginning with sattva, O Lord of the world. “You are the Person who pervades the universe, greater even than the supreme Person; you are all the senses, O Lord, and all the objects beginning with sound. You are the guardians of the directions, righteousness, the Vedas, the sacrifices with proper gifts; you are Indra, you are Shiva, you are the offering, you are the fire. You are Yama, lord of the ancestors; you are chief of the Rakshasas; you are Varuna, lord of waters; you are Vayu and the lord of wealth. You are Ishana, you are Ananta, you are Ganesha and Shanmukha; you are the Vasus, Rudras, Adityas, and the beings of the sky. You are the Danavas, Yakshas, Daityas, Maruts; you are the Siddhas, Apsaras, Nagas, Gandharvas, and Charanas. You are the ancestors, the Valakhilyas, the lords of creatures; you are the sages, the hosts of seers, the Ashvins, the night-dwellers. “You are all other kinds of beings—whatever is called living. What is the use of saying more? You encompass everything, from Brahma to the smallest blade of grass. You are the past, present, and future; you are the world with all that moves and does not move. Your supreme form, O God, is immutable, unchanging, and fixed. Even Brahma and the others do not know this; how could those of lesser understanding? O God, you are pure, eternal, and beyond matter. You are unmanifest, everlasting, infinite, all-pervading, the great Lord—higher than space, peaceful, unborn, all-powerful, and imperishable. “Who indeed can praise you adequately, you who are without qualities and blemish? Whatever words I have spoken in praise, O God, though my mind is limited and imperfect, O Lord of gods, you who are imperishable—please forgive it all.” Thus, when Markandeya praised the Blessed Lord with such devotion, the Lord, pleased and his voice deep as a thundercloud, spoke: “Speak your desire, O best of sages—whatever is in your heart. I will grant all you wish from me, O great sage among the Brahmins.” Hearing these gracious words from the great-souled divine child, the sage, his mind wholly absorbed in Him, replied with utmost joy.