Chrismed cherub wondrous made, master creature with gems inlaid, tapestry of life celestial, set o'er powers of the heavens and terrestrial, finest art of heaven's craft, gleaming tip of the guardian shaft, with voice symphonic, sounding an instrumental melody harmonic, crowned with wisdom's sacred sum, and chief of all His works so begun, why, with such adornment, curved you inward? Why, in pride self-loving, turned you sinward? Why, to Jehovah, your Creator, did you become His accuser and His traitor? In your ambition jealous driven, grasping for what could be only given, you sought the Northern Summit for your throne, to claim God's likeness for your own, and take from His true heir and Son, all that was to come and done. One third of heaven's princes you did entice, turning flaming winds of virtue into vice, and with that rabble rouged and ready, you aimed to overthrow foundations sure and steady, succeeding only there to find, it was the folly of a maddened mind. O Lucifer, brightest of the heavenly host, by pride, by pomp and by benighted boast, (having walked among the first Eden's fiery coals), your beauty you corrupted whole, you lost your station as the morning star, and received at justice's righteous bar, judgment and the thunderbolt that thrust you down so far. Rage unquenched, you seduced His mortals, and entering them through auditory portals, pulled them to the dust of death, sucking from them life and breath. Despite the works of darkness you have wrought, their woeful end shall come to naught, since in the trap you laid for those you sought, your own cloven hoof has been secured and caught, and they, by blood that freedom bought, have been granted heaven's holy and eternal lot.