1 The King whose face is decked with oil is kindled with homage offered by His faithful servant.

The men, the priests adore Him with devotion. He hath shone forth when the dawn is breaking.

2 Yea, He hath been acknowledged as most mighty, the joyous Priest of men, the Youthful.

He, spreading o'er the earth, made light around Him, and grew among the plants with blackened fellies.

3 How dost Thou decorate our hymn, O God? What power dost Thou exert when Thou art lauded?

When, Bounteous God, may we be lords of riches, winners of precious wealth which none may conquer?

4 Far famed is this the Bharata's own fire; it shineth like the sun with lofty splendour.

He who hath vanquished Puru in the battle, the heavenly guest hath glowed in full refulgence.

5 Full many offerings are in Thee collected: with all Thine aspects Thou hast waxen gracious.

Thou art already famed as praised and lauded, yet still, O nobly born, increase Thy glory.

6 Be this my song, that winneth countless treasure, engendered with redoubled force for God,

That, splendid, chasing sickness, slaying demons, it may delight our Friend and bless the singers.

7 We, the Vasisthas, now implore Thee, O Giver of Strength, the Lord of wealth and riches.

Thou hast brought food to singers and to nobles. Preserve us evermore with blessings.