In times of challenge and conflict, the seekers of wisdom call upon Indra, the mighty and much-invoked, to guide them towards wealth and light in battle, and to lead them to victory over their foes. They pray that Indra, who fills their hearts and grants them strength, will carry them safely beyond all hatred, and that he will gladden them with power and show them the path to his favor. With fervor, they urge Indra on, invoking his strength to strike down great enemies, and envision him as a mighty bull, indomitable and fierce. Indra, fashioned for conquest, stands exalted—renowned, glorious, and ever delighted by Soma. His words thunder like a gathered, unfailing thunderbolt; he is unwavering and towers above all. Singers and praisers chant hymns to Indra, their voices rising in reverence. Indra, together with his two bay steeds, yoked by speech and mingled in purpose, wields the golden thunderbolt. With his far-seeing vision, Indra made the sun rise in the sky, splitting the mountain with its rays. Eager for his presence, the worshippers invite Indra to their seat of offering, urging him to drink the Soma. They call upon his two tawny steeds, yoked by prayer, to bring him swiftly, and beseech him to listen to their prayers. With devotion, they summon Indra, the drinker of Soma, whenever the sacred drink is pressed. They yoke the spotted, ruddy horse, moving among those who stand still, as the lights shine in the sky. Indra’s beloved two bay steeds, with beautiful wings, are harnessed to his chariot, red and bold, bringing men to his presence. Indra, who made signs for the signless and forms for the formless, was born together with the dawns. Upward, the rays carry Jātavedas, the god, so all may see—the sun shining forth. As thieves depart, so too do the sun’s rays recede with the nights, for the sun, the all-seeing, returns. His rays and beams are visible among the people, shining like fires. Swift and all-seeing, the sun is the maker of light, shining upon all regions. The sun turns back the hosts of gods and men, and all the shining world, for the seer. With his radiant eye, Varuṇa observes all moving beings, watching over their births. The sun travels across the broad expanse of the sky with his rays, beholding the births of men. Seven bay steeds draw the divine sun’s chariot—brilliant-haired and all-seeing. The sun, offspring of the chariot, has yoked seven swift mares, and with these self-yoked ones, he journeys across the heavens. To the radiant one, hymns pour forth swiftly, like horses running or cows to a calf. These hymns flow shining and abundant, full of radiance and nourishment, as a mother brings forth her newborn from her heart. With the strength of the thunderbolt, fame brings life, clarified butter, and milk to the dying man. A spotted cow steps forth, seeking her mother and father, advancing within the shining realms. From breath and out-breath, the great buffalo declares the light. With thirty abodes, he shines forth; the bird of speech soars, answering the call of the radiant dawns. When the mighty one ascended into speech and sought to master the midspace, the gods rejoiced together. The worshippers pray for the mighty one to empower speech with boldness, to make the voice wide and unassailable, and to be most exalted in his joy in heaven. They ask for speech to be empowered, so that the abode of law may shine forth and all may rejoice, having prepared the sacred grass. Indra, wondrous, death-conquering, and exhilarating, is praised with hymns, as cows in their stalls praise a calf. The seekers desire the shining, generous, powerful one, surrounded by strength, abundant in food, wealth, and cattle—like a mountain rich in treasures. They approach Indra’s heroic power and sacred knowledge, by which he aided the striving Bhrigus in their quest for wealth, and protected Praskanva. By his strength, Indra set great rivers in motion and made the ocean flow; his greatness is undiminished, and the earth cannot subdue him. Among mortals, none are truly worthy to praise the swift Atasīna horses, for none have fully captured their greatness in song. The singers, the righteous and inspired, call upon the god, wondering which sage will invoke him, and when generous Indra will come to the pressed Soma and the song of praise. Now, as is fitting, they praise Indra—the bestower of riches, generous and known to them—who grants abundant wealth to the singers, as if by the thousands, answering their prayers with bounty and favor.