1 I sing thy fame, Bountiful, through thy greatness the heavens and earth invoked thee in their terror,

Thou, aiding the righteous, didst quell the power of the wrongdoers, what time thou holpest many a race.

2 When thou wast roaming, waxen strong in body, telling thy might among the people,

All that men called thy battles was illusion: no foe hast thou to-day, nor erst hast found one.

3 Who are the seers, then, who comprehended before our time the bounds of all thy greatness?

4 Thou, Mighty Steer, hast four supreme natures, natures of Lordship that may ne'er be injured.

All these, O Bountiful, thou surely knowest, wherewith thou hast performed thy great achievements.

5 Thou hast all treasures in thy sole possession, treasures made manifest and treasures hidden.

Defer not thou my longing: thou art Director, thou art Giver.

6 To him who set the light in things of splendour, and with all sweetness blent essential sweetness,

To the Mighty hath this welcome hymn that strengthens been uttered by the votary Brhaduktha.