Book 20: Hymn 52

HYMN LII

1We compass thee like waters, we whose grass is trimmed and
Soma pressed.
Here where the filter pours its stream thy worshipper round
thee, O Vritra-slayer, sit.
2Men, Vasu! by the Soma, with lauds call thee to the foremost
place.
When comest thou athirst unto the juice as home, O Indra, like
a bellowing bull?