In the sacred gathering, the tongue of truth flowed sweetly and dearly, spoken by one whose thoughts never faltered—a lord of unwavering mind. In this hallowed space, a son honored his parents by placing their third name in the radiant heights of heaven, ensuring their memory shone among the stars. The shining ones—the gods—poured their offerings into waiting jars, their voices roaring like thunder, guided by devoted men. These gifts were placed within the golden vessel, and the givers of truth approached as Dawn herself arose, illuminating the triple heights with her brilliance. With sacrifice following sacrifice, and praise upon praise, the worshippers proclaimed Agni, the immortal Jātavedas, as their beloved friend, ever ready to aid them with skill and offerings. They prayed to serve the Son of Strength with oblations, asking that he protect them in contests, increase their prosperity, and guard their bodies. One among them called out to Agni, pledging to speak many words and offer libations, so that Agni might grow ever stronger. Wherever Agni chose to set his mind and superior insight, there he established his sacred seat. None of his gifts had ever been wasted, and so the people sought his favor once again. Without burden, they invoked the mighty, unprecedented one—the wielder of the bolt, wondrous in power—for help. Boldly, they approached him for aid in their deeds, asking the strong one to come to them, for they had chosen Indra as their helper and steadfast friend. With longing, they called to Indra, the singer of praises, inviting him to come with the waters and streams. Day by day, they offered praises to the hero, the stone-splitter, who ever grew in might. The two bay horses, yoked to the wide-wheeled chariot, gathered at the inspired songs, bearing Indra, knower of light, as they were harnessed by words. The people sang to Indra, the drinker of Soma, that he might partake of their draughts. Indra, all-conquering and of a hundred powers, stood as the greatest among men. They called him, much-invoked and much-praised, ever-renowned in song. For them, Indra was the giver of great gifts, the bestower of prizes, and their mighty leader, recognized by all. They sang joyfully to Indra, the tamer of horses, the drinker of Soma, their true benefactor. Indra, giver of prizes and cattle, of gold and wealth, was celebrated by the Kaṇvas, who rejoiced in him with their hymns. Never had they failed in contest or need, for Indra recognized them by their praises. The gods desired those who pressed the Soma, not those who slept, for only the ever-vigilant avoided negligence. Their songs resounded around the pressed Soma for Indra, the exhilarator, as the singers praised him with hymns. In the pressed Soma, in which all glories and the seven assemblies rejoiced, they called upon Indra. The gods, aware at the three libations, had prepared the sacrifice, and the people prayed that their songs would be accepted. They presented Soma, purified and placed upon the sacred grass, inviting Indra to come swiftly and drink. This pressed Soma, prepared for his delight and for contest, awaited him—Indra, companion of Śācī, invoked as Ākhaṇḍala. The bull with horns, offspring of the waters, bearing the vessel for libation, had captured Indra’s mind. They called to Indra to come and grasp the splendid, abundant prize with his mighty right hand. They knew him as powerful in deeds, mighty in help, generous in gifts, and vast in his aid. Neither gods nor mortals could restrain Indra when he chose to give; like a fearsome bull, none could hold him back. For Indra, the bull, at the pressed Soma, they released the libation, inviting him to be satisfied and fully partake of the exhilaration. They prayed that the foolish, the powerless, or the mockers would never overpower him, nor any enemy of prayer subdue him. As a cow gladdens her calf, so they wished their offerings would gladden Indra for great bounty. They invited him to drink as a tawny one drinks from a lake, to drink deeply of the pressed Soma, and prayed that no harm would come to him. The pressed Soma, washed by men and purified by stones and filters, sparkled like a horse set loose among the rivers. They prepared barley sweetened with milk, just as Indra desired, for him in their assembly. Again, they offered the strong Soma to Indra, the Lord of gifts, the lover of song. They asked him to direct his being to his proper portion of the pressed Soma, that he might be exhilarated. They prayed that the head of the sacrifice would not reach his belly, but that the arms—their strength—would attain the gift through the power of their chant. At last, they invited their friends, the bearers of praise, to sit around Indra and sing together, their voices united in reverent celebration of the mighty god.