The sages, seeking to protect their people and lands, turned their prayers first to the dark goddess Nirṛti. They implored her to direct her gaze elsewhere, to seek out those who do not honor the sacred Soma or perform the rites of sacrifice—let her pursue the thief and the robber, and leave the devoted untouched. “Seek another, not us,” they pleaded, offering homage to Nirṛti, the dread goddess of dissolution. They honored her sharp and piercing radiance, beseeching her to sever the iron bonds she might have cast. In harmony with Yama and the divine Yamas, they urged her to lift away misfortune and place the afflicted upon the highest heaven, releasing them from suffering. To Nirṛti, the formidable one, they offered the ritual means to free those whom she had ensnared. Though many, in their ignorance, called her Earth, the sages declared their understanding of her presence encircling all. They prayed for the noose she had bound around the necks of mortals to be unfastened, for this binding to be cast away from the core of life itself, so that, as if newly born, the soul might return to its father. They offered homage to Bhuti, the power that had accomplished this release. Turning now to the divine order, they praised the one who is the dwelling and gathering place of all riches, who perceives every form with his powers. Like Savitar, the god who upholds truth, he stands steadfast where even Indra did not stand at the crossing of the battle-paths. The wise among men, following this cosmic order, harnessed their ploughs and stretched out the yokes, preparing the earth for growth, and seeking the favor of the gods in their labors. They joined the ploughs, stretched the yokes, and carved furrows into the earth, sowing seed into the prepared womb of the soil. Through the spoken word, creation itself was invoked, and with the burden of labor, they called for the ripening of the crops, praying that the furrows would bring the harvest nearer. They wished for the sharpened ploughs to till the earth well, for the ploughmen to come forth with their teams, and for the furrows, pleased with the offerings, to grant abundance along with the sweet-fruited plants. Sita, the spirit of the furrow, was anointed with ghee and honey, blessed by all the gods and Maruts, so that she might swell with nourishment and milk, increasing prosperity for all. With the adorned and well-guided plough, delighting in Soma, the people sowed cows, sheep, fatness, and abundance, as a chariot carries the traveler onward. They called upon the wish-granting earth to yield milk as she desired, for Mitra, Varuna, Indra, the Ashvins, Pushan, for the people, and for the plants. When the labor was done, they released the yoked animals, those who traveled the divine path, for they had crossed the darkness and reached the light. Their rites were performed in harmony with the year and its seasons, with the dawn and the Ashvins, with the sun and his charioteer, with Agni Vaiśvānara and Ida, all sanctified with ghee. They recalled the plants born in ancient times for the gods, in three ages past, and remembered a hundred and seven abodes of the brown plants. They honored the plants as mothers, acknowledging their countless abodes and shoots, and prayed that Indra, famed for his deeds, would make these plants their remedy. The plants were invoked to rejoice, to flower and bear fruit, to carry the people across adversity like swift horses. The sages addressed the plants as mothers and goddesses, seeking from them horses, cows, clothing, and their very spirit. They recognized the plants’ seat in the ashvattha tree and their dwelling in the leaf, and spoke of how cows nourish them when they renew a man’s life. Where the plants gathered like kings in an assembly, the one who could drive away demons and disease was called a sage and healer. They prayed for all the plants, rich in horses and Soma, full of strength and vigor, to come and grant complete safety. They acknowledged that the vigor of the plants could depart, just as cows leave their pen, but knew that Purusha, the cosmic being, is the self of those who bring wealth. They saw that the plants could cross boundaries like a thief entering a herd, shaking off whatever impurity was in the body. Whenever they took the plants in hand, seeking strength, the essence of disease perished, just as the grip of death once did. Wherever the plants spread, limb by limb, they were invoked to drive away disease like a fierce warrior in battle. The sages called upon disease to fall away with the cāṣa and kikidīva birds, to vanish with the wind and disappear with the mist. They prayed that the plants would protect and support one another, united in granting favor. All plants—fruitful and fruitless, flowering and non-flowering, born of Brihaspati—were invoked to release the people from harm, from curses, from the wrath of Varuna, from the fetter of Yama, and from every divine offense. The plants fell down and spoke from the sky, declaring that those who partake of this life do not perish. Among all the wise, hundred-eyed plants of Soma the king, the foremost were called upon to fulfill desires and bring joy. These plants of Soma, spread across the earth, born of Brihaspati, were asked to grant their strength to the people. Whether near or far, all herbs were gathered together to lend their power. The one who dug up the plants, and the one for whom they were dug, were both blessed to be unharmed, as were all bipeds and quadrupeds. The plants, speaking with Soma the king, proclaimed, “For whom the Brahmin prepares, O king, we shall deliver him.” The plants were hailed as destroyers of swelling, dispersers of piles, ripeners, and slayers of a hundred diseases. They had been once dug by the Gandharvas, by Indra, by Brihaspati; Soma the wise king released them from disease. The plants were invoked to withstand all hostilities, to endure the attack of enemies, and to stand firm against all evil. Long life was wished for those for whom the plants were dug, and for the plants themselves, that they might grow with a hundred roots. The best of plants were recognized for their trees as supports, and the people prayed that this support would protect them from any assailant. They asked that neither the creator of earth nor he who upholds the sky, nor even the one who first begot the shining waters, would harm them, and wondered to which god their offerings should be made. Thus, in reverent unity with earth, plants, gods, and all beings, the sages wove their prayers for protection, abundance, healing, and peace.