Dawn and Night, ye lofty ones, richly adorned— Heaven and Earth, Varuṇa the binder, Mitra the friend, Aryaman the noble—

I call upon Indra the mighty, the Maruts swift as storm, The Mountains, the flowing Waters, the shining Ādityas.

Heaven and Earth, Waters and Sun, be near.

Heaven and Earth, wise pair of truth,
Shield us from narrow straits and harm.
Let not the dark unmaking draw near in might— This day, we take up the gods’ own aid.

Aditi, mother of Mitra and Varuṇa rich in gifts, Ward us from every close-bound fear.

Grant us the sun-drenched light, that light which turneth back the wolf.
This day, we choose the gods’ own aid.

Let the speaking stone, the press, drive forth the fiends:
Away with evil dreams, with loss, with all devouring things.
Let us reach the shelter of the Ādityas, and that of the Maruts fierce and fair.
This day, we choose the gods’ own aid.

Indra, sit thou here upon the holy grass, Let the draught swell sweet and strong.

Let Bṛhaspati, master of the chant, raise up the song beside us.
We shape a thought well-marked for life and good.
This day, we choose the gods’ own aid.

O Aśvins, lift our rite to touch the skies, Full of life and worthy of praise.

Let it ride with reins turned eastward, soaked in holy ghee.
This day, we choose the gods’ own aid.

I call the storm-born host, pure and high, Good to call upon, fair of fate, true comrades.

May we gain the swelling wealth that brings good name.
This day, we choose the gods’ own aid.

We bring forth the One made full with water’s dew, A giver of riches to the quick, a seeker of the gods,

Glory of the rite, Soma bright—
Him, steered with well-held reins, we hold for Indra’s joy.
This day, we choose the gods’ own aid.

Let us win with ease what is to be won,
We, and our sons who live, and walk in blamelessness.
Let them who hate the sacred word take back their sin and flee each way.
This day, we choose the gods’ own aid.

Ye gods who hearken to Manu’s holy call, give ear.
Grant that which we ask: a will that winneth, Glory full of wealth, and filled with valiant men.

This day, we choose the gods’ own aid.

A high and mighty thing we take this day— The help of gods who strike not first, yet stand in strength, That we may win the good born out of heroes.
This day, we choose the gods’ own aid.

Beneath the shelter of great Agni kindling bright, May we be faultless in the eyes of Mitra and of Varuṇa, And under Savitar’s best and holy drive.
This day, we choose the gods’ own aid.

All ye gods beneath Savitar’s command,
Whose urging is true, with Mitra and with Varuṇa— Bestow on us our share: fair stock of kine and men, And wealth that gleams with brightness.

Savitar behind, Savitar before,
Savitar above, and Savitar below—
Let him bring whole-making from all sides; Let him grant to us a life long and full.