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I hear five foolish maidens calling: Remorse-remorse, oh we have made a mess. With our little lamps burning weak eternally, we were snugly wrapped in a world-blanket in our death-sleep.

Once-upon-a-time we promised our loyalty to the Bridegroom. We would open Sion’s veil for her on the wedding festival. At the feast, we would have made the first toast. But for our night vigil, we kept too little oil for our little lamps.

Soon the world-night enfolded us. With our hope firmly on a system, there was too much matter to deal with. But in the wee hours of the world-cage, we hear the end-time-guard shouting a warning from the walls.

Hopeful we held our little lamps to our faithful sisters. But desperately they clung to their emergency-stock. Joyfully they followed the Bridegroom with burning lamps.

On the Godly Wedding Day, the Eternal Sun shone and the light was so pure blue. Sion was God’s wife now. The Melchizedek temple was built on this Holy Mountain. Yes, all of creation blissfully beheld this Wedding Ceremony.

But the entrance-door was locked to the late-coming bridesmaids. Therefore, blissful, blissful is every sealed one who would hold on to Elohim’s hand to the end of the period.

All that is then left to the lost world in her remorse, is the lamentation of the lazy maidens over not enough oil held in their lamps. Yes, while they call: Remorse oh remorse, to our eternal downfall, we have deep remorse.