Come, O Agni, to this shrine of the Atris!
Thou whom we kindle in the breaking dawn,
Beloved priest of our ancestral fire,
Approach the altar where our fathers stood.

With clarified butter we anoint thy kindling,
With praise we feed thy golden, leaping flame.
Thou art the mouth through which the gods do feast,
The bridge between the mortal and divine.

O Agni, take our oblation to the heavens!
Carry our songs to Indra on his throne,
To Mitra, Varuṇa, to all the Immortals—
Let them rejoice in what the Atri clan hath wrought.

Thou art the guest whom no man dare refuse,
The priest who serves both altar and the home.
In thee the seed of sacrifice is planted,
And from thy flames arise the sacred words.

Guard us, O Fire, from malice and from hatred,
From rākṣasas that prowl the darkened night.
Thy light shall be our shield, thy heat our armor—
No demon dares approach the Atri flame.

Grant us wealth, O Agni, grant us cattle,
Grant us sons to carry on our name.
Let them be wise and mighty in their combat,
Let them speak truth, as thou dost speak it now.

Thrice blessed is the man who tends thy fire,
Who keeps the sacred covenant alight.
For he shall know no want, no fear, no sorrow—
The gods themselves shall guard his hearth and home.

Come, blazing one! Sit down upon this altar!
Let all the cosmos know the Atris call,
That from the earliest dawn until the gloaming,
We keep thy flame alive in sacred trust.