By, O thou Word, thy countenance’s light, illuminate thy babe, who now to thee in faith, at an untimely age, is gone, and sings to thee, Thou blessed art, O Lord, O God.
Glory.
Affliction’s cause thy going hence now seemeth unto them that thee have lov’d, but unto thee procuracy in truth of gladness and of joy; for thou, O babe, inheritest eternal life.
Both now. Theotokion.
Behold my grief, O Virgin, which th’ abundance of mine ills doth bring on me, and ere my going hence give me refreshment by thy mother prayers to make God merciful to me.
Ode viii. Irmos.
The furnace seven times more....
Refrain. Rest thou the babe, O Lord.
In Abraham’s bosom, in tabernacles of repose, where is their joy who ever festal keep, in places of refreshment where living water is, may Christ thee place, yea, he who for our sake became a child, even ours who unto him cry ceaselessly, O priests, extol him, and, O people, set him up for aye.
A constant cause of grief to us, yea, and for tears, thine ever thought on parting is in truth become; for ere the tasting in this life of things that give delight thou hast left earth, yea, and thy parents’ breasts. But Abraham’s bosom hath received thee, as babe, and unparticipant of every stain.