The sages, with hearts full of longing, turned their prayers to the Ādityas, those radiant upholders of order and guardians of truth. They pleaded for a new release, a liberation as complete as that of a bound soul freed from its bonds, yearning that such grace might be granted to them. Recognizing their own limitations, they confessed with humility that they had no power to overstep the boundaries set by the Ādityas, and so they begged for compassion and mercy. Their prayers grew urgent: “Let not the weapon of Vivasvat, nor any artificial arrow, strike us down before our time, before old age overtakes us. Dispel from every direction all hatred, all hostility, all enmity, and every great sin, O Ādityas, so that we may live in harmony and without blemish.” Turning, then, to mighty Indra, the lord of strength and victory, the people yoked their chariot as one would turn to a trusted friend for favor. They praised Indra, the most powerful, whose wisdom and energy pervaded the world, whose mighty deeds and radiant heat spread greatness everywhere. By the force of his greatness, Indra’s two hands, bearing the golden thunderbolt, seemed to encircle the entire world. They invoked Viśvānar, lord of wealth, unbowed in strength, and all the protectors of the people, calling for their aid and the swift arrival of their chariots. Seeking ever-growing prosperity, they sang songs of praise to those whom men invoke with many prayers for help. Indra, surpassing all in might and measure, fierce and bestower of riches, even the lord of treasures, was urged to come and drink, to receive the ancient praise and lead the people. No mortal, they acknowledged, could attain Indra’s friendship by mere strength, nor surpass his powers. Yet, by his help, whether in water or sunlight, in the midst of great wealth or in battle, they hoped to win victory, trusting in the wielder of the thunderbolt. They invoked Indra with sacrifices and hymns, as he had always come to their aid with abundant help in contests. The people rejoiced in the sweetness of Indra’s friendship and guidance. For him, the sacrifice was spread, inviting him to partake. They asked Indra to make wide space for their bodies, their dwellings, and their lives—room for men, cattle, and chariots alike—so that they might find the path of the gods. With joyful hearts, they called to one another to share the delight of Soma, the sweet gifts prepared and ready. With steady hands, they yoked the two bay steeds to the son of Ṛkṣa, the red ones of the horse-sacrifice, their splendor shining forth, beautifully adorned with their own whips. Indra, in his generosity, had given six horses to Ātithigva, together with pure rites, as a lasting possession. Among these noble steeds, the ruddy one, with her own whip, stood out like a lash among the straight and strong. No mortal could overcome these companions of prize, nor could any blame rest upon them; they were unmatched in contest. Then, the sages called forth a hymn in the Triṣṭubh meter for Indra, who delights in strength. Puramdhi, seeking wisdom, called upon him with focused thought. Indra was hailed as the stream of waters, the lord of young women, the master of unyoked cows—ever seeking the offering. The cows, spotted and bountiful, yielded their milk for Indra, preparing Soma, the mothers of the gods, in the three shining realms of heaven. The people sang to Indra, the lord of cows, the son of truth, the true lord, as was fitting. The bay horses were set in motion, the ruddy ones placed on the sacred grass, as the people gathered together. The cows milked forth sweet drink for Indra, the wielder of the bolt, when he found it hidden away. Indra was urged to rise up to the dwelling of the shining one, to drink the honey and be united in friendship at the sacred steps of the companion. The Priyamedhasas sang mightily, and their sons joined in, raising their voices like a fortress. Gargara, Godhā, and Piṅgā all resounded with hymns for Indra. When the easily milked one flew forth, unshaken, the people seized the Soma for Indra to drink. Indra drank, Agni drank, and all the gods rejoiced. Varuṇa, the lord of the waters, was invoked to dwell among them, as the rivers followed him as cows follow their calf. Varuṇa, the good god, was praised, for the seven rivers flowed after him as water in a well-made channel. The well-yoked one, the skilled guide, led forth the swift horses for the worshipper; his form was like that of one released from bondage. Shakra, Indra, was hailed for surpassing all enemies, for shattering the cooking vessel and the food being prepared with his voice from afar. Like a young boy upon a new chariot, Indra apportioned the buffalo, the beast, as an offering to his father and mother. The fair-cheeked lord and lady were invited to mount the golden chariot, to join the shining, thousand-footed, ruddy steed that brings well-being and wards off harm. To Indra, the sovereign of songs, the people approached with reverence; even for a small share of his favor, they returned again and again, drawn by his inexhaustible bounty.