Those of us owned by You,
who have trembled in delicious fear
at Your presence,
praise Your name,
Odin, All-Father,
Master of the Tree.

Oh Son of Bestla
Son of Borr
born when the worlds were yet to be formed,
born of those first generations
to arise from Ymir’s horde,

You with Your brothers,
forged a new race of Gods,
rising from violence,
shooting toward wisdom
like the fleetest of comets
shooting toward the earth.

You are called Gangleri,
Wandering God,
at home nowhere and everywhere;
You are called Sigtyr,
brilliant in Your battle-glory,
born to conquer, to possess the world;
You are called Grimnir,
and by vitki Yggr,
in honor of Your terrible time upon the Tree.

You are known by these and many other names,
and the paths to You are many.
We praise them all, that You may savor
in each of Your guises,
and by whichever name pleases You the most
the fermentation of our spirits.

May these words please You oh God,
and may You bestow upon us,
whose mouths overflow
with adoration and praise,
the terrible grace of Your blessing.