Once, a wondrous event unfolded: the great bull, Nandi—Śiva’s own vehicle—was not recognized, and from the depths emerged the submarine fire. This fire seized all the planets, so that all the world became one vast expanse of water. By such astonishing and delightful acts, unknown to ordinary beings, the universe and its multitudes were shaken again and again. But consider this: if Śiva, who is ever peaceful, were to grant everything to all without distinction, how could he, by his own power, liberate anyone? It is not the diversity of beginningless karma that determines the fate of beings, for even karma itself is set in motion by the Lord. Why, then, should we speak at length? Atheism is not the root cause of confusion. Tell me, O Wind, how can it be swiftly dispelled? O Brāhmaṇas, your doubts, born of reasoning, are indeed appropriate. For true inquiry does not lead to atheism in those of noble understanding. Now, I shall declare the means of knowledge that removes the delusion of the good; but for the wicked, a different state prevails—unless the Lord bestows his grace. It is rightly understood that, apart from the supreme grace of all-complete Śiva, nothing at all can be accomplished. His very nature alone is sufficient for the act of supreme grace; for one devoid of nature cannot bestow anything. Indeed, the whole world—consisting of bound souls—is to be favored, but the Lord’s command alone governs the bestowal of supreme grace. As the giver of commands, the Lord always bestows favor upon all. How, then, could Śiva, in fulfilling a purpose, be dependent on any other? There is no favoring dependent on the one to be favored; thus, true independence means non-dependence. Yet, if the one to be favored is dependent on another, so it is accepted. Apart from grace, there is no connection to enjoyment or liberation for any being. Even for those with embodied forms, favor is withdrawn by Śiva’s command. In this world, nothing exists that is not established by Śambhu’s knowledge. That by which we perceive the formless through the form—that Śiva whose essence is form—is conventionally called the Śaiva form. Yet, the formless Śiva, the supreme cause, is not directly perceived by anyone in a manifest form. It is only for the sake of being accessible to valid means of knowledge, and to explain his nature, that such designations are made; otherwise, there is no neglect or indirectness here. Truly, only a form directly comparable to oneself can be called a form; the form of Śiva, whose essence is form, is a mark of his transcendence. Just as fire is not perceived in wood before it is kindled, so too is Śiva not manifest in the form-essence before he arises therein—such is the state. When one says, “Bring fire,” it is not brought except from burning wood; so too, Śiva is to be worshipped in the form-essence. Therefore, at the beginning of worship, the conceptualization of the form-essence is made. Whatever is done to the form-essence is indeed done directly to Śiva. Even in the liṅga and other images, and especially in worship, Śiva is to be approached by us in the state of that particular form-essence. Just as the form-essence is favored by the Supreme Lord, so too are we creatures favored by Śiva, who is established in the form-essence. For the welfare of the worlds alone, all—from Sadāśiva onward—are always established by the Supreme Lord Śiva, even in the form-essence. For the sake of enjoyment and especially for the liberation of souls, the connection of Śiva with the form-essence exists in both realities and non-realities. Enjoyment is understood as the result of karma, consisting of pleasure and pain; but since Śiva has no karma, what kind of enjoyment could he have? Śiva grants everything and withholds nothing; for those who withhold, faults arise, but such faults cannot exist in Śiva. And whatever acts of restraint are seen in Brahmā and others, those too are done by Śiva in the form of Śrīkaṇṭha, only for the good of the world. There is no doubt that the lordship of the universe belongs to Śrīkaṇṭha; Śiva presides over the playful form known as Śrīkaṇṭha. The gods and others who are restrained are indeed those with faults, as described; thus, they become purified of sin, and the people too are freed from distress. Even restraint, by its very nature, is not to be despised by the wise; for this reason, the punishment of the punishable is praised among kings. That accomplishment which, as Lord, is the complete function of all works—if he did not exercise lordship over the world, how could he be its Lord? The will of the Lord is creative power; the command of the Creator is supreme. His order is: “This must be done, this must not be done”—that is the rule. To act in accordance with that rule is the mark of virtue; to act contrary is not. Yet, not all conduct is seen to be thus. If something is virtuous, it should be protected; if it is not, it should be turned away. When persuasion fails, punishment is the means. This discipline, ending in punishment, is defined by the aim of benefit; therefore, whatever is contrary to this is called harmful. Those who are always established in what is beneficial are an example of the Lord. How, then, can the virtuous be blamed, when they restrain only the wicked? In the world, those who act improperly and without discernment are to be censured; whatever disturbs people is called improper. All restraint in the world is not born of hatred; for a father does not hate his son when he restrains and teaches him. Even one who is neutral must restrain others when necessary; yet, in doing so, some degree of harshness inevitably follows.