LIKE the Sun's glance, like wealth of varied sort, like breath which is the life, like one's own son, like a swift bird, a cow who yields her milk, pure and refulgent to the wood he speeds.

He offers safety like a pleasant home, like ripened corn, the Conqueror of men.

Like a Seer lauding, famed among the folk; like a steed friendly he vouchsafes us power.

With flame insatiate, like eternal might; caring for each one like a dame at home; Bright when he shines forth, whitish mid the folk, like a car, gold-decked, thundering to the fight.

He strikes with terror like a dart shot forth, e’en like an archer's arrow tipped with flame; Master of present and of future life, the maidens’ lover and the matrons’ Lord.

To him lead all your ways. May we attain the kindled Deva as cows their home at eve. He drives the flames below as floods their swell: the rays rise up to the fair place of Heaven.