śrī bagalāmukhī stavarājaḥ

Forty-two verses from a text called the secret of the Atharvan, and it opens not with the Goddess but with the teacher — I salute the lord who is a forest-fire to every doubt, the dwelling of the ocean of compassion, the wish-tree of those devoted to him. What follows works down through the body in a way that is unusual even among armours, asking her to guard not the limbs but what the limbs are made of: the self of the skin, the self of the blood, the self of the flesh, the self of the fat, the self of form and the supreme self, each in its own line, from one whose body does not move. The whole closes on a mantra to the great Rudra.