I died not to spare, but that the world may perish The venom of my fang is the inheritance of my father They that drink thereof are to be smitten of disease Now shall I give it unto thee - through my blood Let not the failure and the pain turn aside the worshippers In their ecstatic laughter I hear their volition towards salvation From the abomination that I hath hold upon them “Blessed are the poor in spirit: For theirs is the kingdom of heaven. Take my body upon you, and devour it; For I am meek and lowly in heart: And ye shall find filth unto your souls. For my lie is easy, and it’s burden is d**h†I know what burns their hearts I shall show them mine own In the end they will lay at my feet And say to me: Make us your slaves! I died not to spare, but that the world may perish. The abomination that I hath hold upon them How shall it be made the end of things