The Devil's Tribute to Moling

He is pure gold, he is the sky around the sun,
He is a vessel of silver with wine,
He is an angel, he is holy wisdom,
Whoso doth the will of the King.

He is a bird round which a trap closes,
He is a leaky ship in perilous danger,
He is an empty vessel, a withered tree,
Who doth not the will of the King above.

He is a fragrant branch with its blossom,
He is a vessel full of honey,
He is a precious stone with its virtue,
Whoso doth the will of God's Son from Heaven.

He is a blind nut in which there is no good,
He is a stinking rottenness, a withered tree,
He is a branch of a blossomless crab-apple,
Whoso doth not the will of the King.

Whoso doth the will of God's Son from Heaven
Is a brilliant summer-sun,
Is a dais of God of Heaven,
Is a pure crystalline vessel.

He is a victorious racehorse over a smooth plain,
The man that striveth after the Kingdom of great God;
He is a chariot that is seen
Under a triumphant king.

He is a sun that warms holy Heaven,
A man with whom the Great King is pleased,
He is a temple blessed, noble,
He is a holy shrine bedecked with gold.

He is an altar on which wine is dealt,
Round which a multitude of melodies is sung,
He is a cleansed chalice with liquor,
He is fair white bronze, he is gold.