They, roaring, me surround, the mental lions, and seek to seize and rend me bitterly; but crush their teeth and jaws, O Pure, and save thou me.
Although henceforward be my vocal organs dumb, my tongue be bound, my speech be stay’d, in heart’s contrition thee I pray, O my deliverer, save thou me.
Glory.
Thine ear to me incline, Mother of Christ my God, from thy great glory’s height, thou blessed one, and hear my latest sigh, and reach thy hand to me.
Both now.
Thy many mercies take thou not from me, nor close thy loving tenderness for man ’gainst me, O Pure; but stand thou by me now, and in the hour of judgment think on me.
Ode iv. Irmos.
Christ is my might, the God and Lord....
Now make a flood of tears offences’ bath, thou that art good; my heart’s contrition take; yea, blessed one, confirm my trust in thee, that thou wilt free me from the fearful fiery pain; for thou, God-bearing one, thyself art grace’s fount.
Thou that for all in need a refuge art, that put to shame is not, and all offenceless is; be thou, O Queen most undefil’d, an advocate for me in trial’s hour.