Skandapurana 4.60.44.3

4.60.44.3

By whom can the great majesty of that God be comprehended, / whose breath is the Vedas along with their six auxiliary sciences, their words, and their order of recitation?
Though meditating upon him in the space of their hearts, / Sanaka and the others, whose minds, intellects, and senses are unwearied, do not truly find him.
Though his deeds are sung by the best of sages headed by Nārada, / who have lived as celibates from their childhood, he is not fully comprehended.
Subtle in form, unborn, imperishable, one, the primal, beyond the reach of Brahmā and others, invincible, infinite in power, / eternal, free from disease, formless, having an inconceivable form—who knows you, [both] moving and unmoving, and distinct from the moving and unmoving?
Even each single name of yours, O Hari, O Murāri, when chanted—Mukunda, Madhusūdana, Mādhava— / destroys the sins acquired through births of sinners and confers the great fruit of a mighty sacrifice.
O Nārāyaṇa, O deliverer across the ocean of hell, O Dāmodara, O slayer of Madhu, O four-armed one, / O supporter of the universe, O spotless one, O Janārdana! For those who recite [these], where is rebirth here, and where is fear of death?
Those who always contemplate you in their hearts, O Trivikrama, lotus-eyed one having the splendour of a row of clouds, / whose form is clad in garments glittering like lightning—they too touch your splendour of inconceivable form.
O you marked with the Śrīvatsa, O Hari, O Acyuta, O enemy of Kaiṭabha, O Govinda, whose chariot is Garuḍa, O Keśava, holding a discus in your hand, / O lord of Lakṣmī, O slayer of demons, holding the Śārṅga bow in your hand, nowhere is there any fear for a man who is devoted to you.
Those by whom you have been worshipped, O Blessed One, with tulasī flowers whose divine fragrance surpasses the scent of musk— / all the hosts of gods in heaven richly worship those beings of pure nature with garlands of mandāra flowers.
In whose speech is your desire-granting name, O lotus-eyed one, in whose ears are the sweet-syllabled stories of you, / and upon the wall of whose heart your form is painted—by them the state of the formless king is truly not hard to attain.
Those who continually worship you on earth, O you who recline on Śeṣa, O Lord of Śrī—them the principal deities, the lord of the ancestors, Indra, Kubera,