This Horror Will Grow Mild, This Darkness

Did I Request Thee, Maker, From My Clay To Mould Me Man? Did I Solicit Thee From Darkness To Promote Me?

What Is Dark Within Me, Illumine.

Servant Of God, Well Done! Well Hast Thou Fought The Better Fight, Who Single Hast Maintain'd Against Revolted Multitudes The Cause Of Truth.

And, When Night Darkens The Streets, Then Wander Forth The Sons Of Belial, Flown With Insolence And Wine.

Freely We Serve, Because We Freely Love, As In Our Will To Love Or Not; In This We Stand Or Fall.