Such is the vastness of the Person—the Purusha—that even when his greatness is spoken of, he is yet greater still. All that exists, all beings and creation, are but a quarter of his being; his other three quarters, immortal and untouched, abide in the heavens beyond our sight. In the beginning, these three quarters of the Purusha rose upward, transcending all worlds, while only one quarter manifested here again on earth. From that portion, he spread himself in every direction, pervading all things—into what eats and what does not eat, into the animate and the inanimate. From this great Person was born Virāj, the radiant one, and from Virāj, the Person was born anew. When he took birth, he expanded, surpassing the earth, reaching far behind and before, enveloping all that is. Then, in the primordial age, the gods prepared a great sacrifice, using the Person himself as the offering. In this cosmic rite, spring became the clarified butter, summer the fuel, and autumn the sacred oblation. They anointed that sacrifice—the Purusha, who was born at the beginning—upon the sacred grass. With this supreme offering, the gods, the Sādhyas, and the ancient sages performed the first and highest of all sacrifices. From that sacrifice, fully offered and complete, was gathered the clarified butter mixed with curds, and from it, he created the animals: those of the air, those of the forests, and those who dwell in villages. From that same sacrifice, wholly offered, were born the sacred hymns of the Rig and Sāma, the meters of the chants, and from it too, the Yajus emerged. Horses came forth from the sacrifice, and all animals with two rows of teeth; cows were born, and from it also goats and sheep were produced. When the gods divided the Person, they arranged him into many parts. From his mouth, the Brahmin arose; from his arms, the Kshatriya was made; from his thighs, the Vaishya took birth; from his feet, the Shudra came forth. The moon was born from his mind, the sun from his eye; from his mouth emerged Indra and Agni, and from his breath, Vayu was born. From his navel arose the midspace, from his head the sky was fashioned, from his feet the earth, and from his ears the directions—thus were the worlds brought into being. Seven were the enclosing logs for this sacrifice, and three times seven the kindling sticks arranged, as the gods, in their act of creation and worship, bound the Purusha as the sacrificial beast. With sacrifice, the gods performed sacrifice; these were the very first sacred rites. By these, they attained the highest heavens, the realms where the ancient Sadhyas and gods dwell. Now, Agni, the sacred fire, is ever kindled by those who are awake, even as he grows old in the house, inspiring the household from his own abode. He is the universal priest, worthy of all offerings, all-pervading, radiant, and a good friend to all; he is befriended by all. Adorned with visible splendor, Agni is a guest in every home, abiding in every forest like a skilled craftsman. He does not disregard any person but dwells among all peoples, moving from tribe to tribe. Agni, you are wise with wisdom, skillful with skill, a sage with insight, knowing all things. You alone are the lord of riches, making heaven and earth flourish. Knowing your origin, O Agni, the seat of the rite, in the place of offering rich with ghee, the shining ones gather to you, pure as the rays of the sun. Your splendors, Agni, are like showers of rain; your bright flames are like the signs of dawn. When you are sent forth and reach the plants and woods, you yourself gather food into your mouth. The plants bore the embryo of the rite, and the waters, O Agni, generated you as their son. The trees and plants, pregnant and bearing, always bring you forth everywhere. Driven by the wind, impelled by the will, you move among the three foods, O Agni, ever alert. Charioteers strive for you as for a prize, and your ageless flames burn separately. Agni, the maker of wisdom, the adornment of the assembly, the priest who inspires thought, is revered by all. He is chosen with offerings for greatness, for none other but you is so honored. Here, O Agni, you are chosen as the priest by the wise in their assemblies. When worshippers place their offerings for you, O Manu-born, on sacred grass, they do so with devotion to the gods. Your priesthood, your assistantship, your office of the rite—you are the inviter, the fire-kindler, the supervisor, the master of the sacrifice, the Brahman, and the householder in our home. Whoever, O Agni, offers to you, the immortal, with fuel or with offerings, you become his priest, you go as his messenger, and you speak for the worshipper at the sacrifice. All these thoughts, words, hymns, and praises come together for you, Agni, seeking wealth from the all-knowing one who increases even the grown and delights in their offerings. This ancient and excellent praise, ever new, we speak for you, the bountiful one. May you hear us, may you ever dwell within our hearts, like a devoted wife adorned in her husband's house. In you, Agni, horses, bulls, oxen, cows, and sheep, released and offered, are placed as oblations. For you, wise one who delights in Soma, we generate with our hearts a lovely thought. O Agni, the offering is for you; may the clarified butter be as a ladle, and the Soma as a vessel. Grant us wealth full of strength, abundant in heroes, renowned, and great in glory. To you, the lord of the sacrifice, the charioteer, the chief of the people, the Hotar, the guest of the worshipper, the radiant one blazing among dry woods, the mighty, the sign of the worshipper, who stretches the sky—we offer our praise. Both races have made this Agni, steadfast in law, the accomplisher of the assembly, like a strong bull, the priest of the dawns, the son of strength, the tawny one who sits as the house-priest. We seek the guidance of the strong one and the path of the treasure-keeper; by his call, we desire his lordship. When the fierce ones attained immortality, they scattered the people of the divine with their praise. For the course of truth is vast, the sky is wide, and reverence is great and abundant and to be sought. Indra, Mitra, and Varuṇa have considered it, as have Bhaga and Savitṛ, pure in insight. With Rudra as their leader, the rivers flow, spreading wide and bearing abundant water. With these, the far-striding one moves about, bringing forth wide offspring; in his womb, all is set free. The Rudras, Maruts, all the peoples, the celestial eagles, the guardians of the mighty—with these, Varuṇa, Mitra, Aryaman, Indra, and the swift gods behold all. On Indra's arm, the eager ones rely; the sun is their vision, the mighty their manliness. For them, the skilled have fashioned the fitting thunderbolt, yoked in the seat of men. Even the sun delights in Indra's strength; none is more feared than Indra. From the belly of the fearsome bull, the mighty, the thunder roars day by day, repelling the foe. Today, offer praise to Rudra, the mighty, the protector of heroes, with reverence. By his own glory, the gracious one, self-praised, rules the heavens with his own bands. They bore forth wide fame for their offspring—Bṛhaspati, the bull, born of Soma. With sacrifices, Atharvan first upheld the gods; by their skill, the Bhṛgus have considered. Heaven and Earth, rich in seed, Naraśaṃsa, fourfold Yama, Aditi, the god Tvaṣṭṛ the giver of wealth, the skillful Ṛbhus—the two worlds, the Maruts, Viṣṇu—all these are invoked. Thus, the story of creation and worship unfolds: from the sacrifice of the Person to the birth of gods, beings, and the worlds, and the ceaseless praise and offerings to Agni, the radiant priest who connects all to the divine.