LOUD singing at the sacred rite where Soma flows we priests invoke With haste, that he may help, as the bard's Cherisher, Indra who findeth wealth for you.
Whom with fair helm, in rapture of the juice, the firm resistless slayers hinder not: Giver of glorious wealth to him who sing a his praise, honouring him who toils and pours:
Who for the worshipper scatters forth ample wealth, even though buried, piled in heaps: May Indra, Lord of Bay Steeds, fair-helmed Thunderer, act at his pleasure, as he lists.