O Indra, thy strength is beyond measure! In thy arms thou hast grasped the very destiny of the world and molded it according to thy will. What other power could do such a thing? What other god commands the reverence that thou commandest?

Thou art the bull among the gods, the mightiest of all the immortals. The other gods defer to thee; they recognize thy preeminence. When there is a difficult task that requireth great strength, they call upon thee. When the cosmic order threateneth to collapse into chaos, thou raisest thy hand and all is set right again.

We mortals delight in thy bounty, O Indra. Thou sendest the rains that make our fields green and fertile. Thou sendest the abundance that filleth our granaries and our treasuries. We are wealthy because of thy generosity. We are healthy because of thy protection. We are alive because of thy constant vigilance against the forces of destruction.

The young warrior prayeth to thee before he goeth into battle, O mighty one. He knoweth that thy blessing will give him courage and strength. His enemies will flee before him. His sword-arm will be guided true. His chariot will move swiftly across the battlefield. In thy favor, there is victory; in thy disfavor, there is only defeat and death.

Yet thou art also the god of abundance and pleasure, O Indra. After the battle is won, thou drinkest the soma in celebration. Thou revels in the ecstasy of the feast. Thou laughest with the camaraderie of the other gods. Thou knowest both the discipline of war and the joy of celebration. In this, thou art the complete god—warrior and reveler, destroyer and creator, fierce and generous.

We honor thy dual nature, O powerful one. We praise thy strength and thy abundance. Grant us the warrior's courage when we must face our enemies. Grant us the farmer's prosperity when we must tend our fields. Make us strong in thy image, O Indra, that we might live well and die bravely.