O Agni, most fearsome consumer, thou whom none can gainsay, whose appetite is never satisfied, who dost devour all that is offered unto thee with an intensity that borders upon the terrible—we bring before thee now the sacred oblations.

The butter floweth like liquid gold into thy flames. The grain is cast upon thy stones and consumeth in an instant. The flesh of the beast that was offered according to proper rite doth char and blacken, releasing its essence into the realm of smoke and spirit. All that is material and earthly thou dost transform into the immaterial and heavenly.

This is thy terrible beauty, O Agni—that thou destroyest all things, yet in thy destruction there is transformation. The wood cries out as it is consumed, yet in that cry is the sound of its ascension into another mode of being. The offerings are made less, made small, made to vanish from the mortal realm—and in that vanishing they are made greater, elevated, sanctified, made to dwell forever in the realm of the gods.

We do not fear thy hunger, though we fear thy power. For we know that what thou consumest is returned unto us a thousand-fold, transformed into blessing. The smoke that riseth from thy flames carries our prayers upward. The gods inhale that sacred smoke and are pleased. Their pleasure becometh our good fortune.

So we lay upon thy altar the butter and the grain, the herbs and the precious substances. We lay upon thy stones the flesh and the fruit of our labors. We offer freely, knowing that no gift is ever truly lost when given to thee. All that passeth through thy flames becometh eternal, becometh light, becometh a part of the great cosmic order that thou helpest to maintain and sustain.

O Agni, accept this offering. Let thy flames rise high. Let thy smoke ascend to the very throne of heaven. Let the gods feast upon our gift, and in their feasting, let them remember us with favor and bless us abundantly.