1 Prayers have been offered up through love of glory: Vasistha, honour God in the battle.

He who with might extends through all existence hears words which I, His faithful servant, utter.

2 A cry was raised which reached the righteous, O God, a cry to them to send us strength in combat.

None among men knows his own life's duration: bear us in safety over these our troubles.

3 The Bays, the booty-seeking car I harness: my prayers have reached Him who accepts them gladly.

God, when He had slain resistless foemen, forced with His might the two world-halves asunder.

4 Like barren cows, moreover, swelled the waters: the singers sought Thy holy rite, O God.

Come unto us as with his team comes the wind: Thou, through our solemn hymns bestowest booty.

5 So may these gladdening draughts rejoice Thee, O Mighty, very bounteous to the singer.

Alone Thou pitiest mortals: O Hero, make Thee glad at this thanksgiving.

6 Thus the Vasisthas glorify with praises the Powerful whose arm wields thunder.

Praised, may He guard our wealth in kine and heroes. Preserve us evermore with blessings.