To him, the far-renowned, the wise Ordainer, ancient and glorious, a song I offer.

Enthroned in oil, the Devas, bliss-giver, is Agni, firm support of noble, riches.

By holy Law they kept supporting Order, by help of offering, in loftiest Heaven. They who attained with born men to the unborn, men seated on that stay. Heaven's firm sustainer.

Averting woe, they labour hard to bring him, the ancient, plenteous food as power resistless. May he, born newly, conquer his assailants: round him they stand as round an angry lion.

When, like a mother, spreading forth to nourish, to cherish and regard each man that liveth. Consuming all the strength that thou hast gotten, thou wanderest round, thyself, in varied fashion.

May strength preserve the compass of thy vigour, Deva! that broad stream of thine that beareth riches. Thou, like a thief who keeps his refuge secret, hast holpen Atri to great wealth, by teaching.