Hari Stotram — Complete Lyrics

He who sustains the web of all the worlds, on whose throat a garland gently sways; whose forehead shines like the autumn moon, who is death itself to the great demons. Whose body is dark-blue as the sky, whose maya none can overcome, the loving companion of Lakshmi — Him I worship, Him I worship.

He who ever dwells upon the ocean, whose smile is like blossoming flowers; the abode of the whole universe, radiant as a hundred suns. Bearing the mace and the discus, resplendent in yellow silk, with a charming, smiling face — Him I worship, Him I worship.

He who is the necklace at Lakshmi's throat, the essence of all the Vedas; who sports within the waters, who lifts away the burden of the earth. Whose form is consciousness and bliss, whose nature is enchanting, who takes on many forms — Him I worship, Him I worship.

He who is free from old age and birth, full to overflowing with supreme bliss; absorbed in perfect stillness, ever new and ageless. The cause of the world's birth, the banner of the host of gods, the one bridge across the three worlds — Him I worship, Him I worship.

He who is sung by all the Vedas, who rides upon Garuda the king of birds; the very source of liberation, the humbler of the enemies' pride. Ever gracious to His devotees, the root of the great tree of the world, who casts away the piercing spear of suffering — Him I worship, Him I worship.

He who is Lord of all the immortals, whose locks are dark as a swarm of bees; of whom this whole visible universe is but a fragment, who dwells in the space of the heart. Of ever-divine body, free from every desire, whose home is the blessed Vaikuntha — Him I worship, Him I worship.

He who is mightiest in the ranks of the gods, most exalted in the three worlds; the greatest of the great, steadfast solely in His own true nature. Ever fearless in battle, the hero among the mightiest heroes, who rests on the shore of the vast ocean — Him I worship, Him I worship.

He who keeps Lakshmi at His left side, who reclines upon the serpent; to whom all sacrifices are made subordinate, who is utterly free of passion and attachment. Beautifully sung by the foremost sages, encircled by the gods, beyond the flood of all qualities — Him I worship, Him I worship.

Whoever, with a steadied and concentrated mind, daily recites this eight-versed hymn — this garland of praise for Murari (Vishnu) — surely attains the sorrowless realm of Vishnu, and never again meets the grief of old age and birth.