WE as your friends have chosen you, mortals, to be our helper, The Waters' child, the blessed one, resplendent and victorious, unmatched.
Since you delighted in the woods and went to your mother streams, Not to be scorned, Agni, is that return of yours when you come back here.
Over fragrant smoke, you prevailed, and thus you are benevolent. Some go before, and others sit around you, those who have your friendship.
Him who had passed beyond his enemies, beyond endless pursuit, Him the unerring ones, observant, found in floods, lying like a lion in his den.
Him who wandered at his own free will, Agni hidden from our sight, Him Mātariśvan brought to us from far away, produced by friction, from the gods.
O Bearer of offerings, mortals received you from the gods, While you, the friend of man, guard each sacrifice with your own might, Youngest One.
Amidst your wonders, this is good, indeed, clear to the simple, When gathered around you, Agni, lie the herds where you are kindled in the morning.
Offer to him who knows proper rites, who burns with purifying light, Swift envoy, active, ancient, and adorable: attend to the god carefully.
Three times a hundred gods and three times a thousand, and three times ten and nine have worshiped Agni, For him spread sacred grass, with oil anointed him, and established him as priest and sacrificer.