At the heart of the sacred gathering, the worshippers called out with devotion to the radiant Nāsatyas, the Ashvins, inviting them to descend from the heights of heaven and the broad expanse of earth. “Come to this sacrifice in your golden chariot,” they implored, “drink of the honeyed Soma, and grant treasures to your faithful people.” With reverence, they asked the Ashvins to hasten from the celestial realms, not to be delayed by others who might also seek their presence, for it was here, at the place of their ancient origin, that the worshippers yearned for their arrival. The supplicants praised the wondrous pair in both their aspects, seeking from them abundant wealth and many heroes. “Accept our hymns and praises, Ashvins,” they sang, “for those who seek you come forth in hope.” They prayed that the Ashvins, questioned in their minds and hearts, would bestow their good favor and generous prizes, making wide space for the singer and fulfilling the desires that clung to them alone. As dawn broke, the brilliance of the Ashvins rose in the sky. Their golden chariot, yoked and ready, encircled the summit of the heavens. Three swift steeds pulled the chariot together, while a fourth, sweet as honey, ran apart. At every dawn, their honey-laden horses leapt up, dispersing the darkness and spreading radiant light across the sky. The Ashvins were invited to drink the mead with honey-filled cups and to yoke their beloved chariot to the honeyed path, quickening their journey and bearing the most precious, honey-laden gifts. Their golden-winged, tireless swans, awakened by the dawn, soared eagerly, touching the eager worshippers below—just as bees are drawn to honey, so the Ashvins came to the offerings. At the coming of dawn, the well-ordered, honey-laden fires blazed forth, their flames kindled by the wise and swift-handed one who pressed the honeyed Soma with stones. Those who drank together at daybreak moved swiftly, spreading light across the heavens, and even the Sun, yoking his own horses, followed their shining path—for the Ashvins, by their own power, knew all the ways of the sky. The worshippers proclaimed the wisdom of the Ashvins and the timelessness of their chariot, drawn by its own horses, by which they traversed the realms in an instant, coming to the generous and offering lord. Then the prayers turned to Vayu, the swift wind-god. “Drink the foremost of the sweet juices, O Vayu,” they called, “pressed in the dwellings of heaven, for you are always the first to taste.” With a hundred aids and your team, O charioteer of Indra, be pleased with the pressed Soma. They called for a thousand steeds to bring Indra and Vayu together for the Soma-drinking, and praised their golden, well-yoked chariot that touched the sky. “Come with your broad-powered chariot to the worshipper, Indra and Vayu,” they prayed, “for the Soma is pressed—drink it here, together with the gods, in the house of your devotee. Let this be the place of your coming and your release, your place for drinking Soma.” Again, they called to Vayu, approaching his bright, foremost honey in the heavenly abodes, inviting him to come for the drinking of Soma with his splendid team. Indra and Vayu, worthy of the Soma, were praised as the drops flowed to them as rivers to the sea. “Come, mighty ones, with your chariot and your eager attendants, for the drinking of Soma. Whatever eager attendants you possess, bring them to us to carry the sacrifice.” The worshippers prepared the offerings and protected the rites, like noble ones who distribute wealth. They called Vayu to come with his shining chariot for the drinking of the pressed Soma. “Drive away curses, come with your attendants, with Indra as charioteer. Across the fertile, beautiful earth, come swiftly, O Vayu, with ninety-nine horses yoked by thought, and with a hundred steeds of nourishment. Let your thousand-horsed chariot arrive in haste.” The next offering was dedicated to Indra and Brihaspati. “This is for you, beloved ones,” they sang, “with praise and exhilaration. This Soma is poured out for your delight and drinking. Come to our house, O drinkers of Soma, and grant us wealth with a hundred cows, with horses, with thousands. We invoke you with songs at the pressing, for the drinking of this Soma. Drink in the house of the worshipper and rejoice in that dwelling.” They honored Brihaspati, the one who upheld the heavens with might, who stood on the threefold seat, whose roar resounded. The ancient sages, shining and wise, placed him in front, delighting in his tongue. “Let those who are swift and clear-sighted, who have approached us, protect the source of the streaming, unbroken milk; Brihaspati, guard its origin.” Those who sought truth gathered near Brihaspati, and for him, the hollow places and wells, even the stones, poured out honey in abundance. Brihaspati, firstborn, arose in the highest heaven of great light, with seven mouths and seven rays, scattering the darkness with his roar. With hymns and songs, with his company, he broke open Vala, the enclosure, and the cows rushed forth at his call. To the Father, to the All-Gods, to the mighty one, the worshippers offered reverence and oblations, praying for noble offspring, heroic sons, and mastery of riches. He, the king, stood firm against all adversaries, strong and valiant. Whoever supported Brihaspati, well-nourished, praised and honored him—the ancient benefactor of all. And thus, with devotion and song, the worshippers invited the gods to their sacrifice, seeking blessing, wisdom, and abundance for all.