Let us recall the mighty Indra, renowned and wise, who is ever victorious, drawn by his two swift steeds. He comes to the homes of worshippers, honored and revered. With longing for great wealth, he is invited to approach, his horses scattering the waters as they speed to the sacrifice. The hosts call for him to arrive quickly, that the offering may be pleasing to him. Indra, the most powerful, lord of all that is good, is asked to uphold prosperity for those who offer praise. To the noble ones, he is entreated to grant undying fame and abundant riches. At sunrise and again at midday, the faithful call upon Indra, urging him to accept their devotion and come with his team of horses. He is invited to hasten forward, to delight in the pressed Soma, rich in the wealth of cows. The worshippers ask him to weave the ancient thread of sacrifice, as only he knows how. Whatever Indra does—whether far away, near at hand, or even in the depths of the sea—he is always the protector of the sacred Soma draught. The songs of the people are offered to strengthen Indra; the pressed Soma, too, is given for his vigor. The worshipful hosts kindle his presence at the offerings. Inspired ones, seeking his aid, magnify Indra with flowing hymns, and the very earths themselves nurture his greatness, as mothers nurture their sons. The gods have labored for awareness during the threefold pressing of Soma. The hymns of mortals are meant to increase Indra, who is ever-growing. Faithful praisers compose their hymns in due order, pure and radiant, and are called wondrous for their devotion. Within ancient abodes, the awareness of Rudra, the mighty one, stirs—wherever the discerning mind has been placed. If Indra grants friendship, he is asked to protect the worshipper from the dangers of the drink, through which all hatred has been overcome. The praiser wonders when, O Indra, speaker of praise, he will be made most blessed, and when Indra will grant the wealth of cattle and horses. The well-praised, mighty steeds of Indra draw his chariot—the chariot of the undying, exhilarating one, whom all invoke. With ancient aids, the worshippers call upon Indra, asking him to sit twice upon the beloved sacrificial grass. They urge him to grow strong with the help of the sages, to pour forth nourishing food, and to bestow his help. Indra, the supporter of his praisers, is called upon by the stone-bearer. The worshipper directs a thought yoked to the mind, proceeding from truth, toward Indra. At the feast, those who are yoked for the drinking of Soma ask Indra’s steeds to bring forth wealth. The Rudras, Indra’s companions, are invoked to bring glory, and the Marut-hosts to bring abundance. All of Indra’s achievements delight in his heavenly path; at the very navel of the sacrifice, they unite as is known. For the sake of far-seeing vision, Indra moves forward at the ritual, measuring the sacrifice and discerning among men. His chariot is mighty, his steeds are mighty, he himself is mighty with a hundred powers, and mighty is the invocation offered to him. The stone, the exhilaration, the pressed Soma, the sacrifice he restrains, and the invocation—each is mighty. Again, the worshipper calls him mighty: mighty one, wielder of the bolt, accepting praise, mighty in invocation. The worshipper reflects: “If I, Indra, were as powerful as you, sole lord of wealth, my praiser would be famed for cattle. I would instruct and give to him, O lord of power, if I were the master of cattle.” Indra, the bountiful cow of sweet speech, when pressed for the worshipper, yields milk rich in cattle and horses. Indra’s generosity knows no limit—no god or mortal can match him when, praised, he grants wealth. Sacrifice strengthened Indra when he set the earth apart and established the sky’s supports. Ever-growing, he is sought for all the riches of the conqueror; the worshippers choose his aid. Indra traversed the midspace with the exhilaration of Soma, shattering the enclosures. He drove forth the cows for the Angirases, revealing those long hidden, and pushed the barriers aside. By Indra’s might, the shining realms of heaven remain firm and unshaken. Like swelling waters, praise rises for Indra in battle, and his exhilarations rush to him. Praise and hymns increase Indra’s strength and bring good fortune to his singers. His tawny steeds, eager for Soma, draw him to the sacrifice and the generous offering. With the foam of the waters, Indra struck off Namuci’s head, overcoming all hostilities. By his power, he cast down the demons who sought to ascend the sky and escape, thwarting their desires. Indra destroyed the assembly of the non-offerers, scattering them in all directions; as Soma-drinker, he became supreme. So let all sing forth to Indra, the much-invoked, much-praised one, with hymns, and call upon him, mighty and glorious, with their songs.