At the fore of each morning he standeth upright, lifted on high.
From the veil of night he goeth forth, bearing the new day’s light.
With his shining beam, Agni—fair of form and limb— filleth every seat upon the hour of his birth.

At thy beginning, O Agni, thou art the seed of both heaven and earth, beloved, scattered among the green-growing herbs.

A radiant child thou art, circling ever the dusky veil of night, bursting from thy mothers with a cry that never ceaseth.

Even as Viṣṇu, who knoweth well his farthest stride, so at thy rising dost thou guard the loftiest place.

When they, with lips of song, have made their milk for thee, they lift their voice as one and chant to thee in this place.

Then do thy bearers of birth—the kindling woods— come unto thee with their giving hands, bearing meat and means.

Thou goest forth to meet them as they shift their shapes in fire; thou art the Hotar amid the line of Manu’s sons.

To thee they sing, thou charioteer of flame, thou beacon bright of every godly feast.

To Agni they sing, who with all gods doth share their greatness, and yet in beauty is the guest of mortal homes.

Agni, thou that clothest thyself in raiment and gold, resting upon earth’s navel— ruddy thou risest where refreshment treadeth.
O king, being set before all, offer here to the gods.

For thou hast stretched thyself wide through the bounds of heaven and earth, as a son stretcheth his arms to hold both father and mother.

Go forth to the longing ones, and bring the gods to this place, thou youngest and most mighty.