For Yama, the god who presides over the departed, the Soma is purified, and the offerings are made. Every sacrifice, carefully prepared, is sent to Yama, carried by Agni, the divine messenger of fire. With reverence, the sweetest, honeyed oblation is presented to Yama, and those present stand in homage—not only to Yama, but also to the ancient seers and the forefathers, those who first made the paths for us to follow. To Yama, the king, are offered oblations of clarified butter and milk, with prayers that he will grant us long life among the living, so that we may continue to dwell upon this earth. Turning to Agni, the plea is made: do not burn the departed with fierce heat, do not scorch his skin or consume his body. Instead, when you have prepared him, O Jātavedas, send him gently to the Fathers, the ancestors who await him. Once the rite is complete, O Jātavedas, deliver him to the Fathers. Should he stray toward the path of unrighteousness, may he be subject to the powers of the gods, guided back toward righteousness. The Soma is purified with the three Kadrus, and the great one is honored with six broad vessels. All the sacred meters—Triṣṭubh, Gāyatrī—are offered in devotion to Yama. The soul is gently guided: “Go with your eye to the sun, with your breath to the wind; by righteousness, ascend to heaven and earth. Or, if you wish, go to the waters, or remain among the plants with your body.” The unborn, imperishable portion of the being is of austerity—practice austerity for that, let your inner flame and light shine for that. With your most auspicious forms, O Jātavedas, carry the soul to the world of the righteous. O Jātavedas, let your swift and shining flames, which fill the sky and midspace, follow the one who is led forth. With your most auspicious flames, purify him. Release him again, O Agni, to the Fathers—the one who, offered with oblations, moves among the ancestors. Let the living remainder, radiant in body, approach and join together in harmony. The departed is guided past the two four-eyed, mottled dogs of Yama, the Sārameyas, who guard the path. He is led along the good road, to the Fathers who rejoice in Yama’s company at the ancestral feast. O Yama, king, entrust the departed to the care of your two vigilant, four-eyed dogs, who watch over men. Grant us, the living, safety and freedom from harm. These messengers of Yama—wide-nosed, eager for offerings, fig-wood colored—roam among people. May they return us to the world of the living, to the light of the Sun, granting us well-being and life. For some, Soma flows as an offering; for others, clarified butter; for others still, honey streams forth. May the departed reach all these, O gods. Let him join those who, in earlier times, followed truth, were born of truth, and grew by truth—the seers and ascetics, O Yama, born of austerity. May he join those invincible through austerity, who reached heaven by their penance and performed great acts of self-restraint. Let him also join the heroes who fought in battle, those who gave their lives for their people, and those who gave a thousand gifts—their company is noble. May he also find his place among the thousand-guided sages who guard the Sun, the seers and ascetics born of austerity. O Earth, be gentle to him, unshaking and secure; grant him a broad and welcoming resting place. In the spaciousness of your embrace, lay him down; may the offerings he made in life flow with sweetness for him. With mind and thought, the living call to the departed: “Come here, wishing to dwell in these homes; go together with the Fathers, with Yama. May gentle winds bring you favorably.” May the Maruts carry you upward, may the upward-bearers lift you up; let the goat cool you, and let the rain moisten you, O child. Rising up, may your life be for life, for strength, for skill, for living; let your mind go to its own, then swiftly join the Fathers. Let not your mind be scattered to the months, nor to the organs, nor to your sap; let no part of your limbs or body remain behind. May neither tree nor the great divine Earth oppress you; find your place among the Fathers, among the kings of Yama. Whatever part of you has gone far—breath or life, or whatever else has departed—may your gathered ancestors receive it and seat it again, portion by portion. The living ones weep for the departed, carrying him from the house and the village. Death, the wise messenger of Yama, leads his life-breaths to the Fathers. Those evil ones who have entered among the Fathers, unoffered and moving as kin, who bear away the offerings and carry fire, let them be driven far from this sacrifice. May the true Fathers come here, making a pleasant resting place for us, granting long life. May we, offering oblations to them, live many autumns, never failing in vigor. The cow is pressed, her milk is food—by her, may the one who sat here alive be the sustainer of the people. Cross over to the well-horsed, well-served realm, or to the newer crossing of the bearers. Let the one who struck you, who is to be slain, meet his fate; let him not obtain any other share. Yama is farther, and nearer is Vivasvat; beyond that, nothing more is seen. On Yama’s sacrifice you have been placed for me; Vivasvat has extended you upon the earth. The immortal was separated from mortals, a distinction made for Vivasvat. The two Ashvins carried away what was given; Saranyu abandoned the two twins. Those who are buried, those placed above, those burned, and those exposed—bring all these Fathers here, O Agni, to partake of the oblation. Those burned by fire, those not burned, who rejoice in heaven by their own power—you know them, O Jātavedas; may they accept the sacrifice and offering with favor. O Agni, do not burn him too much; do not scorch his body. Let your force be in the logs, and let what is bright rest upon the earth. I give him this resting place; let the one who has come here be mine, if he is here. Yama, knowing, has replied: let this one stand by my wealth here. Let us measure out this span of life, so that we do not fall short of what is due; may we reach a hundred autumns before our time is done. May we, through these blessings and the favor of the ancestors, fulfill our allotted years—one hundred autumns, full and complete.