The Hymn to Thoth

(from scroll in lap of the statue of Horemheb, Lichtheim translation)

Adoration of Thoth, Son of Re, Moon,

Of beautiful rising, lord of appearings, light of the gods,

By the Prince, Count, Fan-bearer on the King’s right,

Great Troop-commander, Royal Scribe, Haremhab, justified,

he says:

Hail to you, Moon, Thoth,

Bull in Khmun, dweller in Hesret,

Who makes way for the gods!

Who knows the secrets,

Who records their expression,

Who distinguishes one speech from another,

Who is judge of everyone.

Keen-faced in the Ship-of-millions,

Courier of mankind,

Who knows a man by his utterance,

Who makes the deed rise against the doer.

Who contents Re,

Advises the Sole Lord,

Lets him know whatever happens;

At dawn he summons in heaven,

And forgets not yesterday’s report.

Who makes safe the night-bark

Makes tranquil the day-bark,

With arms outstretched in the bow of the ship.

Pure-faced when he takes the stern-rope,

As the day-bark rejoices in the night-bark’s joy,

At the feast of crossing the sky.

Who fells the fiend,

Sunders western lightland.

The Ennead in the night-bark worships Thoth,

They say to him: “Hail, [Son of] Re,

Praised of Re whom the gods applaud!”

They repeat what your ka wishes,

As you make way for the place of the bark,

As you act against the fiend:

You cut off his head, you break his ba,

You cast his corpse into the fire,

You are the god who slaughters him.

Nothing is done without your knowing,

Great one, son of a Great one, who came from her limbs,

Champion of Harakhti,

Wise friend in On,

Who makes the place of the gods,

Who knows the secrets,

Expounds their words.

Let us give praise to Thoth,

Straight plummet in the scales,

Who repulses evil,

Who accepts him who leans not on crime.

The vizier who settles cases,

Who changes turmoil to peace;

The scribe of the mat who keeps the book,

Who punishes crime,

Who accepts the submissive.

Who is sound of arm,

Wise among the ennead,

Who relates what was forgotten.

Counselor to him who errs,

Who remembers the fleeting moment,

Who reports the hour of the night,

Whose words endure forever,

Who enters dat, knows those in it,

And records them in the list.