Thou ancient flame, O Agni! How long hath thy fire burned? Since the beginning of all things, surely! Before the mountains rose from the earth, thou wast already burning. Before the seas filled their basins, thou wast already kindling. And when all the world shall pass away, when mountains have worn down to dust and seas have evaporated, still shall thy fire burn—eternal, unchanging, forever.

The mortals come and go. We are born, we live our brief span of years, we die and pass into shadow. Our houses decay; our kingdoms crumble; our names are forgotten. But thou remainest, O eternal fire! Each generation kindle thee anew, not knowing that they kindle what their ancestors kindled, and what their descendants shall kindle after them. Thou art the link that bindeth all generations together.

What is a human lifetime compared to thine eternity? A single breath, O Agni! The spark that flies from thy flame at dawn—by evening it hath fallen back into the coals and is consumed. So brief is human life measured against thy continuous burning.

Yet we do not despair at this knowledge. Nay, we find comfort in it! For we know that we are part of something greater than ourselves. The fire that warmeth us today shall warm our grandchildren's children. The smoke that riseth from our sacrifice shall mingle with smoke from sacrifices yet to come, all reaching upward to the gods in one eternal column.

We are but the kindlers of the fire. We are but the tenders of the eternal flame. We receive it from those who came before; we pass it onward to those who shall come after. In this way, we participate in something immortal.

O Agni, ancient flame! Thou art older than memory, older than the oldest stories, older than time itself. Yet thou burnest fresh and bright each morning, as though newly kindled. Teach us this mystery, O eternal fire. Teach us how to be both ancient and ever-new, both eternally constant and forever changing. Thus do we praise thee, O Agni—the flame eternal among mortals.