Come, let us climb up the holy mountain,
Side by side with the three noble ones,
Seeing the brightness of the sun,
Encircling all God’s daughters and sons.
Two come forth and boldly proclaim,
The truth which they had been told.
Some want to enclose in their domain,
Only the message given of old.
Clouds then cover and hide the glory:
In the darkness, a lone voice is heard:
“This is my Son,” the rest is transitory,
All things to him, now are transferred.
The law and prophets of all are fulfilled,
The eschaton immanent is unsurpassed,
No booth to contain should we build.
Clear yourself of all expectation,
Enter into the cloud of unknowing.
With abundant joy and great elation,
Receive God’s inconceivable showing.
Share in the unfading light of Tabor!
Follow the Son, hear him well:
Detach yourself from all that has gone before,
And you will find in you grace will excel.
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