A good one, a son of the great, am I,

who dwelt in the garment of tears,

in the garment of consuming fire,

that is dark and gives no light.

I dwelt in the house of the seven planets,

who daily forge weapons against me.

I dwelt in the garment of darkness

and made myself like them.

Woe and grief it was to me

in the vain garment.

Woe and grief it was to me in my garment,

when he put it on and when he took it off.

Am I not a son of the great,

who shut me in with the Seven?

I spread my light over them,

but they are dark and give no light.

They say to one another within:

"Let us cut him off and leave him with us."

But then the stranger came to me

and drew me out from their midst.

He drew me out of the consuming fire

and clothed me with the garment of the Mighty Living God.

He made smooth for me a way

from here to the luminous dwelling. —

And praised be the Living God.