O Agni, sharpened blade of the immortals, thou weapon that neither rusts nor dulls, tempered in the forge of the cosmic order itself—hear us cry out in our need. When our enemies arise like locusts across the plain, when malice threateneth to devour us whole, we call upon thy martial essence, thy flame that consumeth all resistance.

Thou art the warrior's sword, though no hand may grasp thee. Thou art the archer's arrow, though no bow doth loose thee from its string. Yet when the Ṛṣis speak thy name with righteous intention, thy power flows forth like the river in flood, irresistible, all-devouring, crushing beneath its tide whatsoever standeth in opposition.

Yet thou art also the shield, O radiant one—the protection of the good, the fortress of the righteous. Around him who keepeth sacred law, who offereth to thee with pious heart, thy flames do coil like a serpent coil, guarding him from the weapons of the wicked. No arrow flung by hateful hand shall pierce him. No curse shall touch his body. No poisoned word shall find root in his heart.

The demon cries out in terror at thy approach. The sorcerer shrinks back as thy light beginneth to dawn. The liar cannot endure thy presence, for thou burnest away all that is false and deceitful, leaving only naked truth exposed unto the eyes of gods and men.

Grant us thy strength, O Agni, that we may vanquish our foes not through hatred, but through the irresistible power of righteousness. Make us thy instruments of justice. Let us be sharp and sure, swift and unstoppable, yet merciful unto all who come to thee with honest hearts and truthful tongues.