SUKTA 15
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I bring my word to the creator and seer, him whom we must know, the glorious, the ancient one; Fire the Mighty One seated in the light, full of bliss, the holder of the Treasure, the continent of the Riches.
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By the Truth they held the Truth that holds all, in the might of the sacrifice, in the supreme ether, they who reached the gods seated in the law that is the upholder of heaven, reached by the godheads born the unborn.
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They weave bodies that reject evil, they weave a vast expansion hard to cross for the ancient one; he new-born can
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cross through the regions¹ though they stand around him as around an angry lion.
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When growing wide thou bearest like a mother birth after birth for firm foundation, for vision, when thou boldest and wearest out manifestation after manifestation, taking many forms thou encompassest all things with thyself.
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May thy plenitude guard the last limit of thy force, the wide continent of the riches that milks out its abundance, O godhead: like a thief thou holdest in the secrecy that plane, awakening him to the consciousness of the great riches thou hast rescued Atri.
¹ Or, breaks through his converging hunters
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