Upon the crags with ghostlight drenched
Writhe up the weres with hands outclenched
As now the chant of those undead
To He who rules below is read
By ghoules who gargoyle at the sky,
Red lipped with crimson, bloody dye,
Their twisting forms paint the rock
With flickering shadows of the Boch
To whom they offer down their prayer
On this Black Sabbath, in his lair
He ‘waits the moment of his sign
To sit upon the stony shrine
Among the shadowed boulders strewn
As ever higher mounts the moon.
The Noon of Night approaches near,
Satanas Rex appear, appear.

Swiftly stalking ‘neath the moon
On wings of wind, as though a boon
To place before His gathered host,
He Overlord of souls now lost
Is seen across the foothilled plains
Sweeping up the mountain chains
‘Till towering far above the peak
The breeze moans – This is whom you seek.
Hushed as though by Death itself
Now lie the band upon a shelf
Of stone that juts above the deep,
Here cry the bats and witches weep
Beseeching him with words that croak
Until He lifts His arms and cloak
To shroud them all in shadows dim
Hidden from the world by Him.

The Hexentanz begins its whirl
Within the cauldron entrails swirl
Among those present at their grave
Are none but those whose soul is slave
To Satan Rex, the Lord of Hell,
King-Emperor of all who dwell
Within where leaps the flaming breath
Of blackened Sheol’s pit of death
For these are no common shades
But the officer elite of Hades
Whose cabalistic tongue is spoken
In this vague half-world of the Brocken
As in state Satanas sits
While demon legions of the Pits
Pay homage to the Holle Boch
On this witch-brewed Wahlpurgisnacht.

Grady L. McMurty

Originally published in Thelema Lodge Calendar, September 1988