The singer, with devotion in his heart, entreats the mighty Maruts, “Let me not become, like a beast grazing in the field, displeasing to you, nor be led down the path of Yama, the lord of death. Keep far from us, whether near or distant, that destruction which is so difficult to overcome. Instead, set us upon a path that flows together with water—nourishing and life-giving.” He beholds the Maruts in their fierce and mighty form, akin to Rudra, their power evident even upon the open plain. Without the wind, they summon the rain; their presence commands the very elements. When their rain is released, the lightning bellows like a cow, and, like a mother letting her calf go, the clouds pour forth their bounty. Yet, in their might, even daylight is turned to darkness, for with Parjanya, the cloud-bringer, they split open the earth. At the roaring thunder of the Maruts, all dwellings upon the earth tremble; people are shaken in awe and fear. The Maruts, with their winnowing hands, sweep across the shining, wide spaces of the sky, tireless in their courses. The singer prays, “May your chariot wheels be steadfast, your horses strong, your reins skillfully fashioned.” With reverence, he addresses Brahmanaspati, the lord of prayer, and Agni, the radiant friend visible before all, seeking their blessings for a long life. He urges his companions, “Let us fashion a song from our very lips, as the rain-giver stretches forth—let us sing the hymn and the chant. Honor the host of Maruts: mighty, delightful, and shining; may they, grown strong, be ever near us.” As the Maruts appear, shining from afar like a flame, the singer wonders, “O Maruts, whose purpose do you fulfill, whose form do you wear? Whom do you favor, and whom do your gifts support?” He prays that their weapons remain firm and powerful, able to cast down foes and repel the fallen, their might abundant and untouched by mortal deceit. The Maruts hurl away what is firm, set heavy things in motion, loosen the forests, and split the mountain ridges. No enemy, whether in heaven or on earth, has found them out. The singer calls, “O destroyers, O Rudras, may your power be with us, yoked with our offspring, now and always.” The Maruts make the mountains tremble and shake the trees; they rush forth like intoxicated gods, their entire host in motion. They yoke their spotted mares to their chariots, the red one drawing the pole. Even the earth hastens for their coming, and people are filled with fear. For their swift help, the singer seeks their protection for his children, recalling how they came to the aid of Kanva in his fear. He prays, “Whomever you, Maruts, or mortals impel—whoever seeks to harm us—scatter him with your might, your strength, your aids.” The wise Maruts have always protected Kanva, coming like rain and lightning. Their strength and gifts are unconquered, and the singer implores them to shoot forth their arrows at the enemy. Rising, the singer invokes Brahmanaspati as divine, calling for the generous Maruts to draw near, and for Indra to be manifest among them. To the son of strength alone does the mortal call when seeking wealth; may those who invoke the Maruts gain heroic power and fine horses. He prays, “Let Brahmanaspati advance, let the goddess of Good Speech advance, and let the gods lead our sacrifice to the noble, generous one, the giver of abundance.” He praises the one who gives wealth to the worshipper, for such a person gains unfailing fame. For him, they offer rich, heroic, blameless praise and abundant food. Now, Brahmanaspati speaks the hymn and the chant, in which Indra, Varuna, Mitra, Aryaman, and all the gods have established their abodes. The singer proclaims, “Let us declare that auspicious, flawless hymn among the gatherings of the gods. May you, O men, heed this speech, so that all desirable things may come to you.” He wonders, “Who among men, devoted to the gods, attains the one who spreads the sacred grass with praise? The generous one, established among his dwellings, has set up a lasting home.” He urges all to approach power, which destroys even among kings, yet grants a secure dwelling to those in fear. For the wielder of the bolt—Indra—there is neither opponent nor rival, whether in great wealth or youth. The wise guardians—Varuna, Mitra, and Aryaman—protect those devoted to them; such a person is never harmed. Like strong arms, these gods shield the mortal from harm, so that he prospers unharmed in every way. They scatter dangers and enemies; the kings of these people strike down their foes and lead troubles far away. The path of the Ādityas, who pursue truth, is easy and free from obstacles; there is no stumbling there. “O men, O Ādityas, you lead the sacrifice by the straight path; may it reach you for our devotion.” The one so protected attains all treasures, wealth, offspring, and a full life. The singer asks, “How shall we, O friends, offer praise to Mitra and Aryaman, and the great expanse of Varuna?” He pledges, “Let us not speak against you, nor curse you, O godly ones; with only good thoughts do I approach you.” Even one who gives only a modest gift should fear the anger of the guardian; let him not desire harsh speech. Turning to Pūṣan, the singer prays, “O Pūṣan, clear away the road for us, remove obstacles, O offspring of release; come, god, and lead us forward. O Pūṣan, whoever, whether evil or wolfish, intends harm against us—drive him away from our path.” Thus, with reverence and hope, the singer invokes the blessings and protection of the gods, seeking their favor for himself, his kin, and all who walk the path of truth.