Beloved Hecate, Queen of the shadows,
Your chariot courses heaven’s icy bower,
Like a silver gash in the black velvet sky,
As you ride on high at the midnight hour.
Dusky mother of the sorrowing heart,
We call upon you this Samhain Eve,
To bide awhile on this hallowed night,
As your mystic, magick web you weave.
Walk with us and be our guide,
As we journey to the realms below;
Teach us the ways of the soul’s dark path,
That your ancient wisdom we may come to know.
Help us to greet and honour those who have passed,
And delve the depths of our grief and pain,
Knowing that out of sorrow springs forth joy,
As the great Wheel of the Year brings rebirth again.
Let our cauldrons bubble tonight with faith and hope,
As beloved Crone, you hold our hands and show us the way,
With your mother’s love and compassionate heart,
That without the night there cannot be day.
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