In reverence, the people raised their voices in prayer, seeking the protection of the gods. They implored, “May all weapons be far from us, O divine ones; let them not exist, and may the stone of Yama, the lord of death, remain distant.” With hope in their hearts, they called for generosity to be their constant companion, and for Indra, Bhaga, and Savitṛ—the giver of splendid gifts—to be their friends. As the Maruts, sons of the shining one, moved forward, the people asked them for broad and encompassing protection. They pleaded for mercy and grace, that their bodies might be spared and their children brought joy. They spoke of the three times seven, those who dwell on the far shore, untouched by old age. With the vitality of these ageless beings, they wished to cross over all destroyers and obstacles of decay. They envisioned cutting through hindrances, holding their bows taut, turning in every direction, so that the unsuccessful and the destroyers might return again and again, unable to penetrate their defenses. Few could withstand such adversity, nor could their children endure it; the unsuccessful and destroyers were scattered like reeds all around. They called upon their forces to go forth, to move their feet, to carry away burdens and fill their homes with prosperity. They invited Indra and the first-conquered, the dwellers in the city, to come and join them. Agni, the god of fire, advanced, driving away demons and evildoers, burning up the double-tongued, the sorcerers, and the malicious. The people beseeched Agni to burn up all sorcerers, all those who harbored malice, and every sorceress with black streaks. They wished that those who cursed and brought harm or madness, those born to steal the sap of life, would be made to consume their own offspring. Let the sorceress eat her own son, her sister, and her niece; let the wild-haired ones destroy each other, let the sorceresses perish, and let all enemies waste away. With the victorious amulet by which Indra grew strong, they prayed to Brahmaṇaspati to make them grow in sovereignty. Having overcome their rivals and enemies, they wished to stand firm against all who contended with them or sought to harm them. Savitṛ and Soma had strengthened them, as had all beings, for they were the victorious ones. Let the amulet, overpowering and rival-destroying, be bound for sovereignty, for the defeat of all rivals. As the sun rose and their utterance emerged, they wished to become enemy-slayers, without rivals, destroyers of adversaries. May they be bulls, rulers, conquerors of poison, bringers of destruction to rivals, shining among heroes and among the people. They prayed that all the gods, the Vasus, would protect this one; that the Ādityas would awaken for him. May neither those of the same lineage nor others bring upon him the death meant for men. They called upon gods, ancestors, and sons, asking them to hear these words spoken for well-being and to carry him safely to old age. They appealed to the gods who dwell in heaven, earth, atmosphere, among plants, animals, and waters, to grant him long life and vigor, so that he might escape a hundred deaths. Those whose preliminary and concluding offerings, share of oblations, and even unoffered portions belong to the gods, whose five regions are divided—they appointed those assembly-seats for him. To the four guardians of hope and to the immortal ones, to the overseers of existence, they offered oblation. They asked the four gods who guard hope to release them from the snares of destruction and harm. With worship and clarified butter, they honored the fourth god, guardian of hope, wishing for excellent existence. May well-being be for mother and father, for cows, for the world, and for all men. May prosperity and auspiciousness abound, and may they see the sun for as long as they live. The people declared, “O people, know this: the great Brahman will speak. There is nothing on earth or in heaven by which plants breathe.” The atmosphere is their abode, a place for the weary and resting. The seat of this being is known to the wise creator, or perhaps not. When earth and sky are agitated and the earth is measured out, then, today and always, it is moist, like the waters of the ocean. All is enveloped by another, and upon another is it established. To heaven, the all-knowing, and to earth, they offered reverence. They praised the golden-hued, pure, and radiant waters, in which Savitṛ and Agni were born. These waters, bearing Agni as their embryo, they wished to be auspicious and gentle for them. Among these waters, King Varuṇa moved, discerning truth and falsehood among people. The waters in which the gods in heaven make their food, which exist in many forms in the atmosphere, they prayed would be auspicious and gentle. With auspicious sight and touch, may the waters look upon them and touch their skin. Pure, radiant, and clarified-butter-flowing, may these waters be gentle and auspicious. They honored the honey-born Viru, digging it up with honey, wishing to be filled with honeyed sweetness. At the tip and root of their tongues was honeyed sap; may their words be pleasing and their minds drawn to sweetness. May their approach and departure be honey-sweet, their speech honeyed, and themselves seen as honeyed. They proclaimed themselves more honeyed than honey, most honeyed among the honeyed, and asked the forest not to break them off like a branch heavy with honey. Around Viru they wrapped sweet cane, for those who come without hatred, so that women might desire them and men not turn away. Finally, they remembered when the Daksha-born ones, with joyful minds, bound gold for the hundredfold-bannered one. They bound this for themselves—for life, brilliance, strength, long years, and a hundred autumns—seeking the blessings of the gods for enduring prosperity and well-being.