1 O thou with stones for arms, thy powers, crushing the fiends, have raised themselves:

Chase thou the foes who compass us.

2 Thou conquerest thus with might when car meets car, and when the prize is staked:

With fearless heart will I sing praise.

3 No one with evil thought assails this Purifier's holy laws:

Crush him who fain would fight with thee.

4 In the Mighty One's name to the streams they drive the tawny rapture-dropping Steed,

The bringer of delight.