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For the moment of birth.
Blessed be.
For power in weakness.
Blessed be.
For light in darkness.
Blessed be.
For rebirth and resiliance.
Glory be.
For hearts held to promise.
Glory be.
For songs in our sorrow.
Glory be.
Like might in a manger
Holy is the holy.
Like hope from a stranger.
Holy is the holy.
Sweet cross and bleak candle.
Holy is the holy.
Sure blessing, bright glory: holy is the holy.
(Based on Litany of Celebration, Luther King House Advent Service, 12th December 1989)
I am the waning Moon
The Goddess who is fading from the land
In the Springtime I sought my Lord
And mated with him beneath the trees and the stars
At Beltane I wed my Lord
Beneath the first blossoms of the hawthorn tree
And in the Summertime I ripened the apples in the orchards
And the fruit grew round and strong
Like the seed within my womb
At the corn harvest I cut down my Lord
That by his death our people might be fed
And now in the Autumntime
I descend beneath the Earth
To dwell with my Lord in his dark kingdom
Until our child is born
At the Winter Solstice I will bring forth the child
And renew your hope
And at Candlemass I myself will return
To renew the land
I leave you, but I return to you
When you see my power fade
And the leaves fall from the trees
When the snow obliterates like death
All trace of me upon the Earth
Then look for me in the Moon
And there in the heavens you will see the soul of me
Soaring still amongst the stars
And in the darkest time
When the moon is covered by shadow
And there is no trace of me in Heaven and Earth
And when you look outwards and your lives seem dark and barren
Let not despair eat at your hearts
For when I am hidden
I am but renewing
When I am waning
I am making ready for return
Remember my promise and look within you
And there you will find the spirit of me
Awaiting those who seek
For by the well-spring of your being
I await you always
I am Diana in heaven
And on Earth, Persephone
And within you that dark Hecate
Triple am I
The One in Three
My body the Earth
My soul the Moon
And within thy innermost self
The eternal spirit of me
(Autumn 'Goddess Charge' in Crowley, V. (1989), The Old Religion in the New Age, The Aquarian Press, 181-182).
I invoke the icon of Diana
Huntress of the wood
Lady of bright imaginings
Silver Star of our desire
Crescent Moon of midnight clear
Diana the wild, Diana the pure
Virgin huntress white as snow
Fair is she as music of the harp
Radiant her smile as moonlight on water
Lights her step as blossom on the wind
Her womb is the Cauldron of Creation
Which brings forth all kinds of hope
The Lady brings the word of power
And lets the shadows flee
The icon turns her ear
And as invoked
By seed and root
By bud and stem
By leaf and flower and fruit
by life and love
The evocation of her name
Lying within the bodies of life.
(After 'Spring Equinox Invocation' in Crowley, V. (1989), The Old Religion in the New Age, The Aquarian Press, 145).