The worshipper, with a heart full of devotion, began his morning by adorning the beloved chariot of the Ashvins—the divine twin horsemen who ride the bull that brings wealth—with hymns of praise. He called out, his voice sweet with invocation, inviting the Ashvins to listen. With yearning, he urged them to come swiftly, wondrous ones with golden wheels, crossing all obstacles with easy passage, their chariot gliding over rivers, drawn by his heartfelt summons. He entreated the Ashvins, bearers of treasures, to approach together as Rudras with golden wheels, accepting the gifts of strength offered in worship. Again and again, he asked them to listen to his sweet invocation. As dawn broke, Agni, the sacred fire, was kindled among the people. Like a cow stretching toward her calf, Agni awakened, and the Dawns rose up, strong as youthful women, their radiant rays streaming skyward. The priest, awakened by duty, prepared for the worship of the gods. Upright Agni, full of goodwill, stood at the threshold of dawn, his shining power revealed as the great god emerged from the darkness. When the strap of the group was loosened, Agni, pure and adorned with pure cows, united the offering with righteousness. Victorious and upright, he took up the ladles, ready to carry the oblations. The most excellent light arose—the light of all lights—born in manifold ways from the Sun’s impulse, as night and dawn entered the same womb, merging in the mystery of creation. The shining one arrived with the bright calves, while the black one—night—retreated to her own abode. Sharing the same kin, the immortal and the mortal, Heaven and Earth, moved in harmony, displaying their colors in the sky. The path of the sister Dawns is endless and shared; they move by divine ordinance, never clashing, never pausing, always of one mind though of different forms. Agni shone forth at dawn’s face, and the inspired words of the devoted rose up to the gods. The Ashvins were invited to come on their chariot, bringing the warm libation. The worshipper prayed that the prepared offering not be measured out, but that the Ashvins, praised and gracious, would come for the midday drink and return again with favor. He called them to the gathering—at dawn, at midday, at sunrise, by day and by night, always with peaceful intent. The Ashvins’ drink was spread forth, and the Dawns made their sign, adorning the heavens with radiance in the first half of the expanse. Like weapons flashing, the red cows—mothers—went forth in order. The ruddy rays soared, unrestrained in their strength, as the red cows were yoked and the Dawns performed their ancient paths. The shining radiance settled upon these red ones. The women sang, not with weaving but with their voices, joined together in one yoking, traveling far, bearing nourishment for the doer of good, the generous, and all who offer and pour the libation. Agni awakened, the sun rose, and the Dawns spread their light. The Ashvins yoked their chariot to go forth, and the god Savitar set the world apart, ordering the cosmos. When the Ashvins yoked their vigorous chariot, the worshipper prayed that they pour out strength, abundant with ghee and honey, and inspire prayers in battle, so that, led by the hero, the people might win riches. He invoked the chariot with three wheels, swift horses, and sweetness, praised for the Ashvins, wishing that the generous one, bestower of all good fortune, would bring happiness to all—two-footed and four-footed alike. The Ashvins’ streams flowed like rain from the sky, approaching the thousand-fold prize. Beholding all lovely songs, the tawny one moved forward, stirring his weapons. Cleansed, he sat like an elephant, like a king of good vows, like a falcon perched on a branch. The prayer rose for all treasures from heaven and earth to be brought, purified by Soma, the sacred drink. The first portion of the ninth flow of Soma streamed forth, its strong currents following the gods. The wise ones cleansed their team, singing; the poets, with hymns, generated radiant light. The worshipper prayed that Soma’s powers grow strong in their purification, reaching the ocean of praise. A sacred utterance followed: praise for Indra, renowned by name, the priestly one, lord of strength, to whom words go forth unrestrained. As streams flow along their path, so may gifts come to Indra today. The chariot was guided to him for favor, for Indra is mighty, master of riches, and breaker of hosts. With mighty force and great deeds, endowed with power and wisdom, Indra spread out in greatness. By his might, his two hands grasp the golden thunderbolt. As a sage, a seer, he advanced to the ancient city, shining like the sun, with unwearied spirit. The twice-born priest stood shining across the three heavens and all regions, most worthy of sacrifice, in the seat of waters. This priest, twice-born, established all precious things for fame, and the mortal who offers to him with Soma gains blessings. The worshipper prayed to Agni: with praises, may we attain the horse, the good resolve that touches the heart, with your help. For Agni has become the charioteer of good resolve, wise, righteous, and great. With these hymns, the worshipper invited Agni to be near, with all his gracious faces, bringing radiant light. Agni, of Vivasvat’s dawns, was asked to bring the splendid, immortal gift to the worshipper and to awaken the gods. As the beloved messenger and carrier of offerings, charioteer of the rites, Agni was called to grant heroic strength and great fame together with the Ashvins. And so, the young one—though gray-haired—awakened among many in the assembly. The divine wisdom of the god was revealed: yesterday he died, today he is born the same. Thus, the eternal cycle continues, and the gods are ever invoked with reverence and praise.