In the tongue of the Psalmist, 
    that mighty king of yore,
    'Nesh-aw-maw' a puff, a wind, mind,
    intellect, vital breath, divine inspiration, soul.

    Bow deep and bend your will to Me:
    I Bring to life, I Bring to death:
    A Hidden Treasure, I Am that I Am,
    have Created to be Known and to be Adored.

    Call to mind the day I assembled all ye,
    ye breathers, spirits in Primordial Day:
    'Am I not your Lord?'  in Truth I Say,
    And you all bear witness: 'Yes indeed, O Lord!'

    Of the Kingdom of the Heavens and the Earths,
    I, The Mighty and Wise, Am The Supreme Lord.  
    Acting without any fear of giving account, yet
    'The Rule of Mercy' Is 'writ upon My Throne.

    Of My Creation, none but Lovers may Approach
    In nearness to Me, the broken and the poor;
    "Well pleased and well Pleasing to Me,
    Enter My Garden, O Contended Soul!"

    "He shall call upon Me", and I Hearing,
    "I Will Answer him" -- to this I Have Sworn --
    "I Will Be with him in trouble; I Will Rescue him
    from his enemies and Bring him to fore."     
     
    Living stones crumble, born again
    to True Life.  And the heedless do not
    note so I Remind: "the fuel of The Fire"
    is not but "men and hardened stone".

    O dust animated by My Divine Breath:
    "Worldly life is not but a sport and a pastime".
    Remember Me and I Shall Remember you;
    Rend the veil of the lie and you shall behold!