Aleister
Crowley .
O
sacred
spirit
of the Gods !
O
triple
tongue ! descend ;
Lapping
the
answering
flame that nods,
Kissing
the brows
that bend,
Uniting
all
earth
's
periods
To
one
exalted
end
!
Still
on
the mystic
Tree
of
Life
My
soul
is
crucified
;
Still strikes the
sacrificial
knife
Where
lurks some serpent
-
eyed
Fear
,
passion
,
or
man
's
deadly
wife
Desire
,
the
suicide
!
Before me dwells
the Holy
One
Anointed
Beauty
's
King
;
Behind me
,
mightier
than
the
Sun
,
To
whom
the
cherubs
sing
,
A
strong
archangel
,
known
of
none
,
Comes
crowned
and
conquering
.
An
angel
stands
on
my
right
hand
With
strength
of
ocean
's
wrath
;
Upon
my
left the
fiery
brand
,
Charioted
fire
,
smites
forth
;
Four
great archangels
to
withstand
The furies
of
the
path
.