"Best of all goods is purity. 
    Glory, glory to him
    Who is best and purest in purity. 
    For he who ruleth from purity, he abideth according
       to the will of the Lord. 
    The All-Wise giveth gifts for the works which man
       doeth in the world for the Lord. 
    He who protecteth the poor giveth the kingdom to Ahura."[9]

     [Footnote 9:  Probably the oldest hymns in the Avesta language.]

Then all the priests repeated the verses together in chorus, their voices sounding in a unison which, though not precisely song, seemed tending to a musical cadence as the tones rose and fell again upon the last two syllables of each verse.  And then again, the chief priest and the other priests together repeated the hymn, many times, in louder and louder chorus, with more and more force of intonation; till the chief priest stepped back from the fire, and delivering up the pincers and the fan, allowed the two assistants to unbind the cloth from his mouth.

He walked slowly up the temple on the left side, and keeping his right hand toward the altar, he walked seven times around it, repeating a hymn alone in low tones; till, after the seventh time, he went up to the farther end of the hall, and stood before the black marble trough in which the fermented Haoma stood ready, having been prepared with due ceremony three days before.

Then, in a loud voice, he intoned the chant in praise of Zaothra and Bareshma, holding high in his right hand the bundle of sacred stalks; which he, from time to time, moistened a little in the water from a vessel which stood ready, and sprinkled to the four corners of the temple.  The priests again took up the strain in chorus, repeating over and over the burden of the song.

  "Zaothra, I praise thee and desire thee with praise! 
    Bareshma, I praise thee and desire thee with praise! 
    Zaothra, with Bareshma united, I praise you
        and desire you with praise! 
    Bareshma, with Zaothra united, I praise you and
        desire you with praise!"

Suddenly the chief priest laid down the Bareshma, and seizing one of the golden goblets, filled it, with the wooden ladle, from the dark receptacle of the juice.  As he poured it high, the yellow light of the lamp caught the transparent greenish fluid, and made it sparkle strangely.  He put the goblet to his lips and drank.

The king, sitting in silence upon his carved throne at the other extremity of the temple, bent his brows in a dark frown as he saw the hated ceremony begin.  He knew how it ended, and grand as the words were which they would recite when the subtle fluid had fired their veins, he loathed to see the intoxication that got possession of them; and the frenzy with which they howled the sacred strains seemed to him to destroy the solemnity and dignity of a hymn, in which all that was solemn and high would otherwise have seemed to be united.