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 carcass 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!