WITCHCRAFT by CHARLES WILLIAMS

NOT for cattle or gold,
Not for houses or land,
I go to the evil Sabbath
On this night, and stand
Under the icy throne
To take the icy vows
And be accounted one
Of our Father's house.

Our Father who wert in heaven,
A lonely road is Thine;
Hardly after long travel
Shall we reach to our design,
Hardly by prayer and vigil
Into Thy presence come,
Hardly by that last gate
Of fiery martyrdom.

Many shall stand by Thee
Upon this Sabbath night,
In vengeance or love or gold
Seeking for their delight;
High leaps up in their heart
The flame of earth's desire,
But quench in Thine own elect
That too-long smouldering fire!

Over the whole world
Through the streets of many a town
The seven deadly Sins
Go lightly up and down.
But from their sweet delays
Set Thou Thy children free;
'Tis Thou, not they, we seek;
Father, draw us to Thee!

Envy and Anger and Lust
Are half the kin of Love,
But Thy great throne is lifted
All lesser thrones above:
Whose sole joy is to see
Love weep and bleed anew.
This, this is all our prayer—
That we may aid thereto.

All the proud Asian kings
Who have loved torment well,
All sweet malicious tongues,
How far Thou dost excel!
O Terror! O Cruelty!
O Hate! O Anguish of Joy!
Make our hearts one with Thine
To ravage and destroy.

On the cross at the world's end,
Where that Other hangs,
There, Thy back to His back,
Endurest Thou Thy pangs:
There on our perfect longing
Nail us with spines of ice,
And break our mortal hearts
In the great sacrifice.

Poor and hungry and bare,
His elect saints go by;
Poor and hungry and bare
Must Thine adepts draw nigh.
To see our lovers weep
Under our word or kiss—
Naught else will we ask or have;
Our Father, grant us this!

O cold, cold, cold,
The piercing wound shall be
When in an utter loathing
We are made one with Thee,
Beyond all hope for ever
Of knowing love again
Save with its core of malice
And weeping eyes of pain.

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