In every dwelling place, O Agni, thou art present. In the morning when the household stirreth, it is thy warmth that first meeteth the inhabitants. In winter it is thy flame that keepeth back the bitter cold. In the cooking of food, in the warming of the hearth, in the light that banneth darkness — thou art there, faithful and ever-attending.

Thou comest as a guest, yet thou art more constant than any kinsman. The friend may depart and return as seasons turn. The mother may pass into the realm of the ancestors. But thou remainest, age after age, tended by successive generations in the same hearth, in the same sacred space. Thou art the continuity, the thread that bindeth one generation to the next.

How gentle thy presence in the evening! How kind thy crackling voice. The family gathereth around thee — the old telling stories, the young listening with wide eyes, the mother preparing the evening meal. Thou art the center, the gathering place, the source of comfort and security. Who would not love thee, O Agni?

Yet thou art also fierce. When the darkness groweth deep and the night speaketh with alien voices, it is thy light that keepeth back the rākṣasas, the demons, the forces that would devour the unwary. The evil spirits dare not approach where thy flames burn bright. Thou art the protector of the threshold, the guardian of the family, the sentinel against harm.

We tend thee with reverence, feeding thee wood and ghee, honoring thee with our attention and our gratitude. In return, thou hast never abandoned us. Through famine and plenty, through prosperity and hardship, through war and peace — thy flame hath endured. Blessed art thou, O Agni, guest eternal in the hearth of home.