In the assembly of the gods, the mighty one stood, his two hands grasping the golden thunderbolt, a testament to his greatness. As a sage and seer, he advanced to the ancient city, shining like the radiant sun, his spirit unwearied and ever-bright. The twice-born priest, Agni, stood resplendent across the three heavens and all regions, most worthy of sacrifice, seated amidst the waters. This priest, Agni, established all precious things for fame, and those mortals who offer to him with Soma attain great gains. With praises, the people beseech Agni, hoping to attain the swift horse and the good resolve that touches the heart, all with his gracious help. Thus, Agni has become the charioteer of good resolve, wise, righteous, and great, guiding the hearts of men. With hymns, Agni is invoked to be near, with all his gracious faces, to bring radiant light to the worshippers. Agni, of Vivasvat's dawns, is asked to bring splendid, immortal gifts to the devotee, and as Jātavedas, to awaken the gods on this day. Beloved messenger and carrier of offerings, Agni, the charioteer of the rites, is called upon—together with the Aśvins—to grant heroic strength and great fame. Agni, the young one, though gray-haired, awakens among many in the assembly; his divine wisdom is evident—yesterday he died, today he is born anew, unchanged. By his power, the strong, the ruddy, the eagle, ever heroic and steadfast, perceives truth as his food; his wealth is never vain, for he is both conqueror and giver. With these powers, Agni bestowed manly strength and heroic deeds, with which the wielder of the bolt poured forth might for the slaying of Vṛtra; from this great act, the gods were born, apart from the act itself. Now, Soma has been pressed; the Maruts drink of it, as do the radiant Ashvins. Mitra, Aryaman, and Varuna partake of the pure Soma, each according to their share, from the threefold vessel. Indra, too, delights in the rich Soma, like a morning priest, savoring its pleasures. Surya is praised: "You are great, O Surya; you are Aditya, the mighty one. Your greatness is supreme among the great; by your vastness, O god, you are truly great." By fame and power, Surya is foremost among the gods, the all-pervading light, unassailable. The gods are invited: "Come to us with your steeds, O lord of delights, to the pressed Soma." Indra, the slayer of Vritra, wise and hundred-powered, is called to come with his steeds to the Soma. For Indra, the protector of the Somas, is summoned to partake in the offering. Offerings are made to the great, the wise, the greatly increasing; good favor is sought, and the ancient peoples are urged to move forward, guided by the leaders of men. Beautiful praise is generated for Indra, the broad-minded and mighty; the wise do not transgress his commands. Hymns have placed Indra, unconquerable in spirit, as king among kings, for companionship with the tawny-horsed one, united on the sacrificial grass. The singer places himself in Indra's care, seeking gifts, not harm, and prays to learn to honor Indra day by day, wherever he may be, for apart from Indra, Maghavan, there is no other source of wealth, not even a father. The call of the pourer is heard, and the mountain-dweller is asked to perceive the inspired one's thoughts and grant favor, so that the devotee may be joined with him. The words and praise of the powerful Asura are never rejected; his name and glory are always proclaimed. Indra has many offerings among men, and many inspired ones invoke him; the devotees pray not to be deprived of his favor. A shout is raised for Indra, the foremost in battle, even from afar; in every gathering and contest, the Vritra-slayer is called to be mindful, so that the bows of others are broken on the battlefield. Indra released the rivers, struck down the low ones, shattered the frost, and remains unconquered, born for victory. He grants all desirable things, and is embraced by his devotees, who pray for the defeat of foes in battle. All hostile powers are scattered far, enemies vanish, and thoughts remain firm; Indra is called to bring destruction to those who seek harm, to let his gifts surpass all others, and his bowstring be drawn in battle. The praiser, endowed with wealth, seeks prosperity through Indra, and calls him swiftly to the pressed Soma. Indra is ever attentive; neither hymns, nor wealth, nor songs escape his notice. The devotees pray not to fall into weakness or be given over to others, but to be granted strength by Indra's powers. Indra is invited to the praise of Kanva, to ascend to the heaven of him who commands, to the heaven where he dwells by day. There, the wheels of the chariots never break, nor does the wolf shake them; the stone speaks to Indra, the Soma-drinker, calling out with sound, inviting him to ascend to the heaven of him who commands. Soma flows, delighting Indra, most sweet with honey. The pressed juices, full of wisdom and brightness, have flowed to Vayu. They have flowed for the gods’ favor, racing like chariots, bringing joy and blessings to all.