1 Thou, O God, mid mortal men, art guard of sacred rites, Thou art to be adored in worship.

2 O Mighty One, Thou must be glorified at our festivals,

Bearing our offerings to the righteous.

3 O Knower of all that is born, fight and drive our foes afar from us,

Them and their godless enmities.

4 Thou seekest not the worship of a hostile man,

However nigh it be to Thee.

5 We sages, mortals as we are, adore the mighty name of Thee,

The Immortal Knower's name.

6 Sages, we call the Sage to help, mortals, we call the God to aid:

We call on the Radiant One with our songs.

7 May Vatsa draw Thy mind away even from Thy loftiest dwelling-place,

O God, with song that yearns for Thee.

8 Thou art the same in many a place: mid all the people Thou art Lord.

In fray and fight we call on Thee.

9 When we are seeking strength we call on God to help us in the strife,

The giver of rich gifts in war.

10 Ancient, adorable in worship, Priest from of old, meet for our praise, Thou art.

Fill full and satisfy Thy servants, O God, and win us happiness by offering worship.