The lamp that lights all darkness,
is drawn from sorrows vein
Angels tend its lonely wick
to see its glow remain
Its rays spark soft and gentle,
its red bears many scars
hang in the sky like ruby stones
amidst the twinkling stars
The Angel’s blessed scourges
are brought to feed the flame
tortures, sorrows, death and woes
wash us in holy rain
The lamp can e’er be followed
bright and most profound
always lighting higher paths
which lead to holy ground