destiny's pathway, that now we bring forth into the light. Mysterious Fire and Water, the
Earth and the Air. By hidden quintessence we know them, and will keep silent and dare.
The birth and rebirth of all nature, the passing of winter and spring. We share with the
life universal, rejoice in the magical ring. Four times in the year the Great Sabbat
returns, and the witches are seen. At Lammas and Candlemad dancing, on May Eve and
old Halloween. When daytime and nighttime are equal, and the suns at its greatest and
least. Four lesser sabbats are summoned, again witches gather in feast. Thirteen silver
moons in a year are, Thirteen in the covens array. Thirteen times Esbat make merry, for
each golden year and a day. The power was passed down the ages, each time between
woman and man. Each century unto the other, 'ere time and ages began. When drawn is
the magickal circle, by sword or athame of athame of power. Its compass between the
two worlds lies, in the land that shades that hour. This world has no right to know it, and
the world beyond will tell naught. The oldest of gods are invoked here, the great work of
magick is wrought. For two are the mystical pillars, that stand at the gate of the shrine.
And two are the powers of nature, the forms and forces of the divine. The dark and light
in succession, the opposites each unto each. Shown forth as a god and a goddess, this
did our ancestors teach. By night he's the wild winds rider, the Horned One, lord of the
shades. By day he's the kind of the woodland, the dweller in deep forest glades. She is
youthful or old as she pleases, she sails the torn clouds in the baroque. The bright silver
Lady of midnight, the crone who weaves spells in the dark. The master and mistress of
magick, they dwell in the deeps of the main. Immortal and ever renewing, with power to
free or to bind. So drink the good wine to the Old Gods, and dance and make love in
their praise. Till Elphames' fair land receive us, in peace at the end of our days. And so
what thou wilt be the challenge, so be it in love that harms none. For this is the only
commandment, by magick of old, be it done! Eight words the witches creed fulfill, If it
harms none, do what thou will.
