Place me, O Queen, in holy Angels’ sacred and revered hands, that cover’d by their wings, I may not see the forms devoid of grace, and foul, and dark of demons.
Both now.
Thou all-revered bridal-room of God, me worthy count to enter in the heavenly spiritual bridal-room, enkindling with thy mercy’s holy oil my quenched and unshining lamp.
Condakion, tone vi.
My soul, my soul, arise, why sleepest thou? The end draws very near, and thou hast need to pray. Then rouse thyself, that Christ God may compassionate thee, he who is present everywhere, and filleth everything.
Icos.
Beholding open Christ’s remedial fount, and Adam drawing healing thence, the devil, suffering, wounded was, wailed as they who ill receive, and cried to those conjoin’d with him, What shall I do to Mary’s Son? He killeth me, the Bethleemite, he who is present everywhere, and filleth everything.
Ode vii. Irmos.
The angel made the furnace to bedew....