In Consecrated Light

The nuthatch on the old oak tree

Of every crevice is aware,

His call alerts the eye to see

This muse of winged mystery.

O world so torn by hate and still so fair,

The forces of destruction rage

In one last battle for control

Of earth to usher in an age

Where darkness reigns and saint and sage

No longer chart the destiny of soul.

How we are forced to look within,

The evil in our hearts to face,

We purveyors of pain and sin

Who welcome darkest forces in

Have planted evil in a sacred place.

O splendours on the fairy wing

Who soar aloft in heaven's blue,

Will we yet live our song to sing

And from the realms of godhead bring

A music to create our world anew

And open ears to occult sound,

Eyes to visionary sight,

The Secret of the Way refound,

Aware we tread on hallowed ground,

Are born and live in consecrated light.