Hail, O Uṣas! Thou who art the most beautiful of all the immortals! Thy golden robes do outshine the sun itself. Thy smile is sweeter than honey; thy voice is gentler than the whisper of the breeze through the leaves.

All the world doth await thy coming. The sick man hopeth that thy light shall heal him. The poor man hopeth that thy coming shall bring fortune. The lonely man hopeth that thy light shall dispel the shadows of his heart.

Do not delay, O merciful one! Come swiftly; come surely; come with all thy golden glory! We are waiting for thee with outstretched hands and uplifted hearts.