With reverence and joyful hearts, the sages raised their hymns to Indra, the mighty one renowned for his greatness, whose strength responds to the call of song. Such is his impetuous might that neither the vast heavens nor the broad earth, nor even the spaces between, can contain the wielder of the thunderbolt. In the heat of battle, when the gods themselves placed Indra at the forefront, his two bay steeds carried him onward, swift as the wind. It was with these steeds that he advanced when, through his indomitable power, he slew Vṛtra, the great obstructer. Again, when Vishnu, with his immense strength, took his three fateful strides for Indra, the steeds bore him forward. Gaining strength day by day, the steeds grew in vigor, and all the worlds submitted to Indra’s command. When the hosts of the Maruts were yoked to his cause, all the worlds bowed to him. When Indra established the shining sun as a beacon of light in the sky, the worlds yielded to his will. Thus, the inspired sage, seeking the favor of a kinsman at the sacred sacrifice, raises excellent praise to Indra with devoted thoughts. In his beloved abode, at the very navel of the sacrifice, the singers joined in harmonious song for him, like milkers at the sacred rite. The sages then prayed, “O Indra, grant us heroic strength, fine horses, and abundant cattle, as the Hotṛ does for those who have gone before, at the sacrifice.” Indra, in the pressed Somas, purifies his power and his praise, revealing his greatness and the wisdom of the mighty. Ancient and victorious, he sits in the first heaven, the seat of the gods, renowned for his skill and triumph in battles. To this Indra, full of might, the sages call, seeking his gracious support and friendship. The bounty of Indra, lover of song, flows generously to the one who presses the Soma; delighting in his seat, he shines forth. The Soma-pressers pray, “O Indra, grant us what we seek—splendid wealth, full of light.” The wise praiser exalts him with songs, and just as birds follow their mother, so do the devotees seek Indra’s favor. The worshippers call, “Hear, as of old, the songs of the singer; listen to the call of your worshipper. Rejoicing, may you increase the doer of good.” Indra’s gracious gifts rush forth like waters down a slope, and with this thought, he is called the Lord of Heaven. He, the Lord of peoples, the sole master, is invoked with reverence and prayer at the Soma pressing. All praise is directed to Indra, famed and wise, whose two steeds are ever victorious, who comes to the worshipper’s house, honored with devotion. Eager for great wealth, the worshippers invite him to come swiftly with his horses—those who scatter the waters—to the sacrifice, hoping it will please him. Indra, most powerful and lord of the good, is asked to support wealth for those who praise him, granting immortal fame and riches to the noble. At sunrise and at midday, the sages call to Indra, inviting him to accept their offerings and come with his team of horses. “Come here, hasten forward, delight in the pressed Soma, rich in cows; weave the ancient thread as you know how,” they plead. Whatever Indra does, whether far or near, even in the sea, he remains the protector of the Soma draught. “May our songs strengthen Indra, may the pressed Somas strengthen Indra, may the worshipful hosts kindle Indra at the offerings,” the sages pray. The inspired ones, seeking help, magnify Indra with flowing praises; as mothers nurture their sons, so the earths have made Indra grow. The gods themselves have labored for awareness in the threefold pressing, and the hymns of the sages increase Indra, ever-growing. The faithful praiser composes hymns in due order for Indra, pure and radiant, wondrous in his deeds. Even the awareness of Rudra stirs in ancient abodes, where the discerning mind has been placed. The devotee prays, “If you grant me friendship, protect me from this drink, by which we have overcome all hatred.” “O Indra, speaker of praise, when will the praiser become most blessed? When will you grant us wealth in cattle and horses?” the sages ask. Indra’s well-praised, mighty steeds draw his chariot—the undying, most exhilarating one whom the worshippers invoke. They call the much-praised, mighty one with ancient aids, inviting him to sit twice on the beloved sacrificial grass. “Grow strong, O much-praised, with the aids of the sages; pour forth nourishing food and help us.” Indra, helper of those who praise, stone-bearer, receives thoughts yoked to the mind and proceeding from truth. At the feast, those yoked for the drinking of Soma call upon Indra’s steeds to bring forth wealth. Let those who are his Rudras bring forth glory, and let the Marut-hosts bring forth abundance. All his achievements delight in his path in heaven; at the navel of the sacrifice, they unite as is known. Thus, the story of Indra’s might and generosity is woven through the sacred hymns, ever living in the hearts of those who praise him.