Midnight Prayer The compass of compassion Traces tiny arcs of understanding Against the whim of fashion And the greed of power demanding Step within its magic circle And consecrate your caring With the calm of royal purple And the pledge of forever sharing We are the sons of chthonic gods Aspiring to return from Satan’s night Against the weight of lost souls’ odds In the flicker dim of candle light Lord, help us on our groping way As we struggle from our tombs Listen to what we have to say And help us heal our wounds