Verse 69

⁶⁶Hari, the lord of all, who wears away the massed filth of the Kali age, is not sung of again and again anywhere else; but here the Bhagavan, whose forms are without end, is read out at every step, wherever the accounts run. ⁶⁷To him, unborn and endless, the truth of the self, whose own power is the world's rising and standing and holding in; whose praise the lords of heaven, the unborn one, Indra, Sankara and the rest, cannot come to the end of: to the Unfallen I bow. ⁶⁸To him who by nine gathered powers has built in his own self a dwelling for what stands still and what moves; to the Bhagavan, whose abode is nothing but being known; to the bull among the gods, who does not pass away: salutation.

⁶⁹His mind was quiet in its own happiness, and by that every other feeling was cast out of him; still, the loveliness of the play of the Unconquered drew his heart, and out of pity he spread out that old telling of his, a lamp on what is real. To him who kills all wrongdoing, the son of Vyasa, I bow.