At the meeting point of day and night, Savitar, the self-governing god, emerges unfailingly, his presence ever-renewed. With his radiant song, he proclaims and brings forth all creation, bestowing his gifts upon the world. In reverence, voices rise to praise Parjanya, the roaring bull, ever generous, who places the seed within the plants as their embryo. His might is such that he shatters trees and destroys demons, sending terror throughout the world. Even the innocent tremble when Parjanya thunders and strikes down the wicked. Like a charioteer urging his horses, Parjanya sends forth his messengers—the rains. From afar, his thunder resounds like a lion’s roar as he makes the heavens pour. The winds rush, lightning flashes, and the plants awaken; nourishment is born for all beings when Parjanya fills the earth with his seed. It is by Parjanya’s command that the earth bows, the hoofed creatures stir, and the plants of every form flourish. To him, the people pray for great protection. The Maruts are invoked to send rain from the sky, to pour forth the streams of the mighty stallion. The Asura, their father, is called to draw near with thunder and to sprinkle the waters. With a mighty cry and thunder, Parjanya places the embryo within the earth, circling above the waters with his chariot and drawing forth the deep, well-filled, and low-lying streams, joining them together. He pours out the great vessel so that channels flow abundantly, filling the sky and earth with ghee-like nourishment, ensuring good drinking for the cows. When Parjanya roars and thunders, striking down the wicked, all beings upon the earth rejoice. He has made the rain, seized the thunderbolt, stirred the fields, and moved beyond, generating plants for food. What wisdom, then, has he granted to the peoples? Amidst the mountains, Earth herself grows strong, bearing the small and the mighty alike. By her greatness, she conquers the vast and is victorious. Hymns resound for her, the wanderer, as eager voices strive for her favor like horses for the prize. So splendid is her power that even the firmest trees are shattered when her lightning, born from the cloud, rains down upon the earth. Now, let the great hymn rise to Varuṇa, the sovereign, deep and renowned. Like a tanner, Varuṇa has stretched the earth for the sun’s journey. In the forests, he spread the midspace, gave strength to the swift, and milk to the cows. He placed wisdom in the hearts of men, Agni in the waters, the sun in heaven, and thunder in Soma. Varuṇa sent forth the low-hanging cloud between earth and sky; as king of all, he distributes rain like grain upon the earth. At his command, the earth and sky are raised, and with the cloud, the mountains dwell mightily, breaking forth in heroic power. This is the great magic of Varuṇa: standing with measure in the midspace, he has encompassed the earth with the sun. None can overcome the wise god’s magic, as the rivers, flowing together, fill one ocean with their waters. To Varuṇa and his companions—Aryaman, Mitra, friend, brother, or constant companion—the people confess their wrongs, seeking forgiveness for all faults, whether done in deception, enmity, darkness, truth, or ignorance. May these faults be loosened, and may the people become dear to Varuṇa and the gods. Indra and Agni, too, are invoked, for they assist mortals in contests. By their brilliance, even the firmest obstacles are broken, as Trita did with his voice. Unconquerable in battle, renowned in contests, and protectors of the five peoples, Indra and Agni are called upon for their glorious strength, sharp as lightning, and for their generous hands that approach the cows. The chariots of Indra and Agni are sought, for they are lords of mighty wealth, wise, and praised among singers. Growing strong, they protect the days for mortals, and their fortresses are established as a portion for the godly. To them the great oblation is offered, pure as clarified butter, pressed by stones, that fame, wealth, and sustenance may be granted to those who praise. Attention then turns to the great Viṣṇu and the Maruts, the ever-moving, mountain-born host, worthy of sacrifice, givers of happiness and blessings, swift and mighty. Born in greatness and empowered by their own might, the Maruts are irresistible, their gifts mighty, and their undaunted force cannot be overcome. The Maruts, shining and beautiful, are heard from the heavens; none among them seeks a seat in the assembly, but like fires with their own lightning, their streams roar forth. One strides with a vast step from the common seat, surpassing all rivals, yoking himself to the swift ones, winning with heroes who bring prosperity. The thunderous roar of the Maruts shakes the world, powerful and victorious, conquering and shining with radiance. Their arms are golden, their weapons sharp, and their greatness is boundless. They stand firm in the advance, visible in the assembly, their dwellings spacious and shining like fires. The Rudras, well-armed and strong as fires, protect with their might, spreading their dwelling wide across the earth, their wondrous deeds manifest among the horses. Without enmity, the Maruts are called to the path of the worshipper, to unite with the greatness of Viṣṇu and grant protection, removing all hatreds. To the Maruts, worthy of sacrifice, the people call for delight and guardianship, that they may be unassailable protectors, wise as the greatest mountains in the sky. At the heart of the sacrifice, Agni is invoked first, the wise Hotar. He sits at the offering, desiring the sacred seat, worthy of praise. The people, seeking great wealth, follow him, the first to worship the gods, for Agni has made for them the strength difficult to pass, so that all strength may be joined together. Thus, the gods are praised and invoked, their powers and gifts celebrated, and their protection earnestly sought by all beings on earth.