To they who ascend the hill of the Lord,
Hearken the call, but bring not towards,
The trifling pursuits of riches and glory,
Take up instead our labour in quarry,
Shed all your garments of temporal bliss;
Humble your soul and ever resist,
Temptations, desires for worldly admire,
Lest your poor soul be lost in the abyss.
If there be any mark or stain,
Upon your heart of material gain,
Or violence or war, or prejudice or hate,
Depravity, deceit; for shame and disgrace!
Tread not upon this holy ground,
For it shall tremble with thundering sound,
Before your feet, the earth below,
Shall open up and swallow you whole.
But if there be good intention behind,
The reason you travel, and seek to find,
The luminous glory of wisdom and beauty,
The strength and honour of service and duty,
To Father above, Her presence below,
To Limitless Light from which we all flow,
Take grasp my hand and carry on through,
The threshold of death…
And life, hitherto…
Shall never be known again as before,
You knocked three times on that terrible door.
Take heed my words my very dear friend,
Dost thou knowest, what fate might portend,
From thy prayers and great longing to awaken and see,
The mysteries of life that await before thee?
Understand, great sorrow and hardship will find,
Each soul toward liberty inclined,
Great misery befalls the one who is free,
Of innocence, of ignorance and doctrine decree.
Upon their return to earth as before,
Our heroes now see many things to abhor,
When hidden from sight, had left much to admire,
Such, is the plight of renewal by fire,
From darkness to light doth spirit raise high,
The rudeness of matter transformed by and by,
Akin to ash of pure white on the pyre,
Our heroes now adorned in sacred attire.
To many, great heroes have lost their right mind,
But they hath not sight, know not, they are blind,
Upon strict orders, the prelates did sound,
Our heroes must dig their own burial ground,
Such is thou fate when illumined from Above,
Prepared are thee now, for this labour of love?
