To Serket, Goddess fair and grand,
Protector of the desert land,
Whose sacred titles we adore,
And in our hearts, we shall restore.
She Who Tightens the Throat, we praise,
In this humble song, our voices are raised,
She Whose Sting Liberates the Soul,
Releasing all from pain’s dark hold.
In depths of night, as venom flows,
The Lady of the Beautiful House bestows,
Her healing glance, her magic charm,
To all who seek her soothing balm.
By Serket’s grace, the stricken breathes,
Her power over death we trust, believe,
She Who Causes the Throat to Breathe,
Our hearts do fully, freely heave.
Oh, Paragon of alchemy,
Whose venom grants a life anew,
In life and death, our souls entrust,
With wisdom gathered from the dust.
As a scorpion, she guards her ground,
In fierce embrace, her charge is bound,
And in her visage, fierce and true,
Our hearts do find a solace, too.
From Apep’s dreaded, venomous jaws,
Our Goddess saves, due be our applause,
And from her blessed, healing sting,
Our hearts to her we humbly bring.
So, we worship at your feet,
Your wisdom and your power entreat,
To Serket, our guide, our hope, our trust,
We sing our praise, to you our lives we entrust.
