Matarishvan, entering, churned out the hotar of every form, belonging to all the gods, and men set him among their clans, shining like the sun. Dirghatamas's trishtubh verses ask that no one harm the giver's prayer; Agni is his shelter. The worshipful hold him fast in his lasting seat and lead him forward like racing chariot horses. With his teeth he cuts down much, then shines in the forest; the wind blows after his flame like an archer's arrow. Neither enemies nor those who would injure can harm him even in the womb; the blind and sightless could not hurt him, for his faithful lovers guarded him.