The Pater picks up the pace,
Ancient rites echo off the walls,
Smoke and lamp light confuse,
Dancing images,
The breath of God is felt,
Mithras touches those who desire him.

Blood is demanded by the young God,
The Bull must bleed to fertilize the earth,
And nourish the Stars and Universe.

Favorite of the Legionnaires,
Stout heart and steady nerves,
To be with Mithras means to serve,
Protect me from Scythian sword.

The climax comes and God appears,
You are now the chosen ones,
All Brothers in the celestial scheme,
Initiated into the Mysteries.

Light relief is now made,
Toasting and feasting to celebrate. 
The young God watches on, 
The belief of his children gives him form.