Lord of the Unseen Multitudes

O Lord of the unseen multitudes

Beyond the singing of the stars

Earth cries to thee from timeless roods

To heal her suppurating scars,

To cleave the evil from her soil

The darkness from its hidden roots,

Relieve the burden of those who toil

Beneath the polished leather boots

The swastika, the devil's sign,

And hatred like a noxious brew

That scalds and mars the gifts divine,

Retains the old, condemns the new

And evil breeds beneath the sun.

We cry to thee transcendent one.