How hath the oppressor ceased
The Golden city ceased
The Lord hath broken the staff of the wicked
And the sceptre of the rulers
Sheol is moved for thee
The kings of ancient times
Arise from the thrones of slumber
To pity thee in thy shame
Art thou also stripped of all pride and power?
How art thou fallen from heaven
O Lucifer son of the morning
Thou hast said in thine heart
I will ascend above the stars of God!
The worms is spread under thee
The maggots cover thee O king of pride
The least upon the earth feed upon the greatest
All the kings of the nations lie in glory
In their final resting place
But thou, king of pride, is cast out of thine grave
Like an abominable branch
Like the raiment of the slain
Like a carca** trampled under feet
The seed of evildoers shall never be renowned
I will arise against thee saith the Lord
Rise like I rose once before
To cast out the spirit of pride
From the mountain of the north
How art thou fallen from heaven
O Lucifer son of the morning
Thou hast said in thine heart
I will ascend above the stars of God!