Rede

Witches creed

Witch Creed

©Doreen Valiente

  • Hear now the words of the witches,
  • The secrets we hid in the night,
  • When dark was our destiny’s pathway,
  • That now we bring forth into the light.
  • Mysterious water and fire,
  • The earth and the wide-ranging air.
  • By hidden quintessence we know them,
  • And will and 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 magickal ring.

  • Four times in the year the Great Sabbat Returns,
  • And the witches are seen,
  • At Lammas and Candlemass dancing,
  • On May Even and old Hallowe’en.

  • When day-time and night-time are equal,
  • When sun is at greatest and least,
  • The four Lesser Sabbats are summoned,
  • Again witches gather in feast.

  • Thirteen silver moons in a year are,
  • Thirteen is the coven’s array,
  • Thirteen times at 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 the ages began.

  • When drawn is the magickal circle,
  • By sword or athame or power,
  • It’s compass between the two worlds lies,
  • In Land of the Shades for that hour.

  • This world has no right then to know it,
  • And world of beyond will tell naught,
  • The oldest of Gods are invoked there,
  • 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 the forces divine.

  • The dark and the light in succession,
  • The opposites each unto each,
  • Shown forth as a God and a Goddess:
  • Of this did our ancestors teach.

  • By night he’s the wild wind’s rider,
  • The Horn’d One, the Lord of the Shades.
  • By day he’s the King of the Woodland,
  • The dweller in green forest glades.

  • She is youthful and old as she pleases,
  • She sails the torn clouds in her barque,
  • 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 mind,
  • 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 Elphame’s fair land shall receive us,
  • In peace at the end of our days.

  • And Do What You Will be the challenge,
  • So be it in love that harms none,
  • For this is the only commandment.
  • By magick of old be it done!



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