Here are cakes for thy body,

Cool water for thy throat,

Sweet breezes for thy nostrils,

And thou art satisfied,

No longer dost thou stumble,

Upon thy chosen path,

From thy mind all evil,

And darkness fall away,

Here by the river,

Drink and bathe thy limbs,

Or cast thy net and surely,

It shall be filled with fish.

The holy cow of hapi,

Shall give thee her milk,

The ale of goods triumphant

Shall be thy daily drought.

White linen is thy tunic,

Thy sandals shine with gold,

Victoring thy weapons,

That death comes not again,

Now upon the whirlwind, thou followest thy prince

Now thou hast refreshments, under the leafy tree,

Take wings to climb the zenith or sleep in the Fields

Of Peace; by day the sun shall keep thee,

By night the rising star.