I found this image of Freyja over at r/polytheism, posted by u/Arkham_13 and entitled “Freyja, day 22 of Inktober [nsfw]”

And so I thought I’d share some older hymns for Freyja with y’all, it being her day and all (except when it belongs to Frigga.)

To the Mistress of the Silver Distaff

I call upon Freyja who tends the graves of the ancestors
and joins her deep, rich voice to theirs
in the ancient songs that stir life’s currents
and cause brightly hued flowers to unfurl,
branches to bend under the weight of swollen fruit,
animals to fatten and beget plentiful offspring
and fields of golden wheat to rise high
as the thigh of a thickly-muscled thrall;
Freyja who dances in darkest night
as bear-stars and waggon-stars
and stars of the hunt circle and shine overhead
and fey figures leap and laugh
in the leafy trees that surround her;
Freyja, whose delicate, knowing fingers tease
and twine, twist and untangle the fateful thread.
Oh gracious Goddess, hear our prayers
and bless the dead who are dear to us
that our entire line together may honor and serve
you and the other holy Immortal Ones too.

To the Charming One

O Goddess of Witches and Seers
pay heed to my prayers, and I plead
guide my studies and help me hunt power,
you who know the secret language of trees
and the properties of every plant,
runecarver, worldwalker, threadspinner,
limbloosener, shapechanger, farstriker,
corpseraiser, cursecaster and clamorstirrer;
skillful Freyja of the many wiles,
you who pour libations,
and delight in the drum,
you who walk in smoke,
and soar on falcon wing,
you who veil the mysteries,
and reveal what is hidden in the heart,
you who are expert in every sacrifice,
and mistress of the techniques of archaic ecstasy,
you who are found in the wild places,
and mindfully tending the hearth
– hail greatest Völva! Most potent
and most ruthless of the Ásynjur
who bent even Alföðr to her womanly will
in trade for weaving wisdom
and other secrets still;
further I beseech you,
keep every wicked, wrathful and ruinous thing
from me and from mine,
and Lady, I will sing your praises
the next day and every day after.

To the Lady of the House

To the home that ever honors you, O Glad-of-heart,
bestow health, wealth and overflowing good luck
that our neighbors may look upon us
and envy our pious and well-ordered existence,
especially the diligence and delight
with which we conduct your venerable domestic rites.
For you, Freyja, Keeper of the Keys,
are the model we imitate; the loving manner
in which you looked after your kin when but a tender girl,
especially your handsome brother
and dear old father Njörðr.
They wanted for nothing,
and back then you busied yourself always
with keeping your abode in Vanakvisl
gleaming clean, everything in its proper place
and the cupboards and pantry ever fully stocked.
Like a ferocious feral feline
you chase off all that does not belong,
especially the corrupt, unharmonious and malign,
and Freyja, Receiver of Many, it is you
who preside over guest-friendship and feasting,
you who banish cares
and bring refreshment with the mead-cup,
you who fill hearts
with precious love of their own,
an appreciation for what we have,
and what it took to get it,
respect for the labor of all
who keep a household running properly,
honor to the aged and responsibility
for the young and the vulnerable,
and above all the value
of distinct but complementary virtues.
Freyja, O Mistress of the Winding Way,
help us to be patient, understanding and kind
with those whose lives have been entwined with ours,
and always to cherish them and to see
the beauty and uniqueness in them.
This we pray Goddess
of daughters, sisters, wives, mothers, widows
and the good men who love and care for them.

To She Who Smiles

Hear my prayers Freyja,
as once you heard the cries of little Gersemi
when she was cutting her first teeth;
you held her close to your heart,
rocked her and kissed her treasured forehead,
but she was inconsolable;
even her precious sister Hnoss,
who never left your side back then,
shed pearlescent tears in sympathy
and you too suffered their sufferings
until that man, your husband, walked through the door
bearing a sack of toys he’d picked up in his wanderings
for your daughter’s tooth-gift.
He joked, made funny faces,
and his laughter was like the bellow of an aurochs
when his apple-cheeked Gersemi
stuck her tiny pink tongue out at him
and she forgot all her pain.
You smiled then;
all was right in Sessrúmnir.
Goddess, such potent love I feel
for all who are here with me,
and the members of my family and tribe
who live far from me
– watch over every one of them, I ask you,
bless and protect us all
and should your journey-loving daughters
ever set foot at our doorstep,
know that they will be well-received.