Death, direly fatal, the destroyer, with his black crest, and the tawny archer, and all that is uprisen with its army, may these on every side avoid our heroes.

2 With mind, with offerings of butter, and libation, I turn to God, the King of all existence and the Archer, and pay my worship to Him alone: may He turn elsewhere things with deadly venom.

3 Save us, O God, and all Thy mighty angels, from murderous stroke and things that slay with poison. Pure is the might of the All-Seeing, the Radiant, the Provider. May the wind and the rain-cloud, Thy servants, bless us.