HYMNS UPON HYMNS

By
Sydney Nicoletta Freedman
To my soul, that it may read and remember the Lord’s kindness in times of forgetfulness
and sorrow; to my neighbours who read, that they will remember His kindness even more.
To the Reader

I know not who will come upon this page

And read these lines if time will suffer him.
Yet, still I hope my few words will assuage
A saddened heart as our world groweth grim.
Now mayest thou, dear reader, understand
How patient love, by Heav'n and hearts bestowed
Is, through uncertain times, a staying hand,
A burden-lifter, one to share the load.
I pray always that love be in thy life
From those about thee, from the Hand divine,
That, through the floods of pain and grief and strife,
It be as constant as the morning's shine.
When hate and selfishness have such high place,
I pray the King of love to show His face.
 A Singer’s Prayer

Art, word, and song

Are precious myrrh poured out to Thee, O Christ,
Yet they are filth
If we who bear them carry them with pride.

Pride, be thou gone,

For thou canst gain nothing but sin and death!
Bow down, my soul!
Thy weakness shall gain help, humbleness, grace.

Lord, near Thy death,

A sinful woman came to Thee in tears,
Carrying myrrh
And offering it in humility.

Lord, I ask not

To be as she, for I am worse than she.
But, may I be
An alabaster vessel filled with myrrh.
 Song of Preparation

I will arise at early morn,

My matins having sung,
And, in this wise, myself adorn
Ere the next hour hath rung.

Once bathed, I shall my tresses plait,

My fairest raiment wear,
Put on a scent as fine as that
Which violet blossoms bear.

And whilst I tend the physical,

My mind shall elsewhere go
And think on incorporeal
Things that I ought to show.

Pure should I within also be;

Discretion is my gown.
The fragrance is Christ's love in me,
And grace should be my crown.

God only is to notice me,

For Him I seek to please,
And may His image clearly be
What a wandering eye sees.
 A Weak Soul’s Prayer

The wind hath blown me off the path and dashed me to the ground;
May it not throw me from the cliff into the sea!
Yet, I remain steadfast as long as others stand around,
For with our strengths combined, we shall not shaken be.

My meagre frame, against great wind, is powerless to stand;

Likewise, my soul hath little strength to help it last.
A with’ring branch, I draw my strength from Christ the Vine, Whose hand,
Along with saintly branches, doth uphold me fast.

O Lord, may I be like the pliant, noble linden tree,

Which spreadeth scent when wind-blown is its blossom-crown.
When troubles seek to shake my soul, may love and grace from Thee,
O Christ, my root and anchor, to the world be shown.

Before it can give forth its myrrh, a tree must wounded be;
When pressed, grain, grape, and olive can give nourishment.
When suffering shall be my lot, O Lord, I ask of Thee,
Through it, to make Thine Image in me radiant.

Thus, may I, at all times, no matter what befalleth me,

A vessel of Thy blessings for my neighbours be,
Ever striving to make pure the heart that is within me,
That I may see Thee, that men may see Thee through me.
 A Sojourner’s Thoughts

I wander through this battered world,

Which groweth ever smaller,
More connected and yet harmed
By the developments and deeds of its inhabitants.
Though mere words away from kin, I am far from them,
And they wonder:
Mother asketh if I look well,
If I am nourished;
Sisters hope I have companions;
Father hopeth I find someone to share my heart.
There is a single fulfillment for the world
And for their good wishes,
Even Christ God,
Who is garment, food,
Brother, friend,
Bridegroom;
Who joineth me, by love-wrought threads of prayer, to them
And to family throughout the world,
Living and departed,
And throughout time,
Increasing my brethren a hundred-fold
And yet bringing me ever closer to those I left
When I left to follow Him
And to wander
In this world that was created by Him,
And that is being healed by Him.
May my wanderings lead me ever to Him
That I may bear Him to those I meet
Along the way.
Counsel to the Soul During Work

Think not on thyself, my soul,

For such may plunge thee into dark despair or pride;
Think, rather, upon thy Lord,
And on the work that He hath given thee to do;
On how thou wilt obey Him
And on how He will aid thee when thou askest Him.
Lines When Feeling Unable to Help Friends in Trouble

Would that I could build a house,

Well-supplied with all good things
That my fellow creatures all
Might then come and dwell therein.
And their troubles all remove.
Yet, I have not such great means,
And not all need earthly things.
But, I can unite myself
To the Maker of all things,
Who sees ev’ry being’s needs.
He will purify my heart,
Make it large enough for all
To find rest within its shade.
As I pray for them and sing,
May their suffering be quelled;
May my faith support there own
As my Christ supporteth mine.
 A Prayer for Cleansing of the Heart

Thou wind and flame and living water, clear away

The sharp remains of Satan’s arrows and also
The stony debris of my passions and my sins
From all the halls and chambers of my darkened heart.
Clear from its marble surface blemish, spot, and dust
That Thy seal may be plainly seen thereon again.
Close up and soothe the wounds which stone and arrow left,
Which bleed tears of compunction eye can scarcely bear.
Pour out Thy wine and oil upon my longing heart
That it may be filled, joyful, cleansed, soft, full of love,
Toward Thee and all despite its trying sojourn in
A fallen world with its own poor and fallen state.
As I desire, visit my heart, and work to make
It fit for Thee, for my own struggle can alone
Accomplish nought unless Thou truly work in me.
My labour is not over, Thy work not complete,
For though Thou art in all times and all places found,
I still seek Thy face, following the echo of
Thy footsteps and Thy call to me, which give me strength.
Yet these, too, bring forth tears; I beg Thee to step back
And walk with me lest I grow faint or flee in fear
Or lose the way in earthly cares or slothfulness.
Thy hand and voice shall guide, give strength, and comfort me;
Thy goodness and Thy mercy shall guard from behind;
Thy face in paradise will not then seem so far.
 A Prayer in Time of Sickness

Lord, this pain doth not cause anger

Or a sense of some injustice
Or a doubting of Thy kindness,
But instead, it is my sharing
In the curse and great corruption
That I and all fallen sinners,
From the time of Eve and Adam,
Have wrought in Thy good creation.
Hence, my tasting of corruption
Draweth me to ask Thee, Christ God,
Great Physician and Redeemer,
Resurrection, and Restorer,
To bring healing and renewal
To all ailing souls and bodies,
Suff’ring minds and hearts in trouble,
Broken and exploited beings,
Everything in Thy creation,
Whether living or without breath—
For even the stones do cry out.
Thence, all things may sing Thy praises
And reflect Thy perfect glory,
Of the father, the Son also,
And of the Life-giving Spirit,
Unto endless perfect ages.
A Prayer While Walking on the Sea of Life, To Christ and St Nicholas

I walk along this sea of life and, with Thy help, O Christ,
Remain upright, yet, grateful as I am for wonders great,
These fears and troubles still disturb my soul, and trusting Thee,
And knowing Thy great care, long-suff’ring, mercy, love, and grace,
With tears and trembling I tell of them. Thus, I cry to Thee:
I know to what shore I must go, but it doth seem so far;
And, I cannot discern a path in calm water or waves;
When wind-begotten waves grow large, I fear that storm and sea
Might conquer me with their great strength and chill and whirling force;
The water of the sea cannot quench thirst or nourish man,
And I too often slothfully forget provisions, Lord.
Yet, these troubles which I pour out to Thee are mine own fault,
And Thou hast given remedies Thyself and in Thy Church.
At this, my cry, and at the prayer of him whose name I bear,
That victor and sure help of storm-tossed ones and maidens young,
Meet me where I now wander on the water, Jesus, Lord,
Show me Thyself and take my hand and speak Thy truth again
That I may drown disturbance, passion-born, in a pure heart,
Renewed by Thee, the Shore, Light, Path, Strength, Living Fount of Life,
And cry to Thee the hymn most fitting: Alleluia!
 Three Prayers Along the Way

O Lord, I know that I am dust.

The devil chaseth after me;
May I not give place to his foot
But rather be thrown in his eye
And trodden under Thy foot, Lord,
That I may bear Thy bless`ed seal
And offer Thee a place to stand.

I am beset by freezing winds,

At other times by scorching sun,
And since I am a blade of grass,
Such should destroy and wither me.
But, I find shelter, warmth, and shade
Beneath the shadow of Thy wings
When, with Thy help, I fly to Thee
With prayer and silence as my wings,
Which Thou bestowest upon me,
Since Thou dost pray within my heart
And stillest all with Thy sweet word.
And, when Thou stillest not a storm,
It doth not kill but cleanseth me.
Doth Thy word change the storm or me?

‘What shall I render unto Thee

For all that Thou hast given me?’
Thine answer, Lord, doth baffle me,
For it is as if Thou hast told
Thy debtor to repay the sum
By spending more of Thy great gifts
Upon himself. Have I misheard?
Yet, Thy love speaketh clearly, Lord.
Help me to never grieve Thy love,
To ever find Thy statutes sweet;
To give much since much is required;
To serve well as I have been served;
To decrease and let Thee increase,
To multiply the talents, and
To set Thy light upon a stand;
To ever offer hymns of thanks
Amidst the toil to keep Thy word;
To praise Thee when that toil is hard
And thus, to find the struggle good.
For praising Thee doth render sweet
The steep journey unto Thy house.
On Joy and Compuncion

Each one must bear his own cross,

And each cross is an image
Of the same two-fold imprint
That every soul must bring forth:
The keeping of contrition
And erstwhile of great gladness.
These things are never rivals,
For sadness eats a man’s soul;
Compunction is not sadness
But sorrow that we grieve Christ
And joy that He forgiveth.
Myrrh, song, and tears express both.
On Being Dust

How wondrous and joyful it is

To be dust made by the lord,
To be soil in which Christ, the Tree of Life, doth plant Himself.
He doth build it up, doth cover it with His leaves,
And doth water it with His Spirit--
For thou, o my soul and body together,
hast nothing;
Thus, the Lord must enrich thee with Himself.
Having taken root in thee, having nourished thee,
Christ doth shelter and shade the dust which He hath made,
And desiring to embrace it while thus abiding in it,
He becometh a diamond wall around it,
Making thee, my soul, a garden enclosed.
He is thy nourishment, thy beauty, thy peace, thine impervious wall
against evil,
And he hath given thee a body, a vessel of dust-born clay,
Which, if thou wilt keep it well,
He shall raise up and transfigure.
Even now, it is His temple.
Hence, let Him shine out unhindered
In thy prayer and bodily deeds,
In thy love for Him and for thy fellow creatures of clay.
Keep this, his commandment,
Until thou, my soul and body together,
Shall see Him, not only within and all about thee,
But face to face.
Meditation on the Gospel for the Sixth Tuesday of Pascha

On witnessing and hearing of Thy words and works,

The world went after Thee; all nations saw the Light
Of their most great desire approach and were amazed.
Some Gentiles asked to see Thee and to follow Thee,
As Thou instructedst, in Thy light, O Christ my God.
When Thy disciples told Thee, Thou didst then foretell
That Thou wouldst very soon draw all men to Thyself
And clearly show Thy glorious face in love to them,
Granting Thy light, renewal, peace, salvation, life,
And, with Father and Spirit, being glorified
In Thy dread passion, death, and rising up again.
The hour for this had come, and Thou didst tell Thy friends
That Thou wast troubled, yet, as God, Thou prayedst for
Thy Father to give glory to His holy name
While they were present. When He spoke and answered Thee,
In great mercy Thou taughtest that the voice spoke for
Their sake and not for Thine though Thy dread death was nigh.
O Thou Who once wast troubled that my soul would not
Be troubled; Thou Who teachest me to follow Thee
By heeding not this world, that, dying to its life,
I would have true eternal life from Thine; for Thou
Hast deigned to let me serve Thee and thus be with Thee.
Thou promisedst that anyone who serveth Thee
Will honoured be by God the Father. May it be
That this honour would be Thy presence even now
To guide, protect, and strengthen me during this life,
Which I give unto Thee, dying unto the world,
Wherein the best things are fulfilled by Thee. Alone,
They pass away. Thou didst endure the cross and rise;
May this help me endure my cross. May Thy presence
Endure my most unworthy heart until Thou hast
Completed work therein and raised it up with Thee.
Till then, in mercy, ease its death and suffering
With Thy voice and Thy Father’s and Thy Spirit’s breath
That I may see and serve Thee without wearying
And cry to Thee: have mercy on Thy fallen world!
 Metrical Meditations on the Beatitudes

Blessed are the poor in spirit,

For theirs is the kingdom of heaven.
God revealeth our poor nature
To us that we might come before Him,
Emptied, humble, and repentant,
That He may find room for His Spirit.

Blessed are they that mourn,

For they shall be comforted.
Tears and great pain of heart
For one’s sin and for the world,
Call down love when poured out
Like myrrh on Christ’s head and feet.

Blessed are the meek,

For they shall inherit the earth.
Heed not praise and scorn,
And ye shall receive the great Pearl.
Fall down before God,
And Christ shall be all things to you.

Blessed are they which do hunger and thirst after righteousness,

For they shall be filled.
Hunger for God with your soul, heart, mind, body, strength, will, and life,
And follow His steps.
Love Him, remember Him, do His commandments, and call to Him,
And He shall come in.

Blessed are the merciful,

For they shall obtain mercy.
Judge no one; reproach yourselves,
And let God alone weigh hearts.
See no faults but yours alone,
And love will soon uproot them.

Blessed are the pure in heart,

For they shall see God.
Sin is like a grain of sand
That ent’reth one’s eye,
Causing pain, impeding sight,
But banished by tears.

Blessed are the peacemakers,

For they shall be called the children of God.
 With your neighbours quarrel not,
But strive to resolve and reconcile all.
Mind the dealings of your hearts,
Love all, pray for all, and meddle ye not.

Blessed are they which are persecuted for righteousness’ sake,

For theirs is the kingdom of heaven.
Men will find fault, be displeased, unhappy though ye seek but good
If they are enslaved by the darkness
Foolish and strange and unfathomable are Christ’s cross and face
To them; pray that the same would free them.
 A Prayer Against Strife in the Church

O Lord, my heart is sore perplexed and crushed by what I see

Among the members of Thy Body, when we discord raise.
Each man believeth that he standeth for Thy will and truth;
Yet, none agree, and tales and accusations freely fly,
Demon-begotten, carried by unbridled, angry tongues.
Each claimeth to have heard or spoken truth yet trusteth none.
Such things I do behold and have no words to ask Thine aid.
Instead, in shock and shame, I weep with mute tongue, shouting heart,
And would that my tears could, by Thy grace, work a wonder true:
May they our anger cool, our slander drown, our blame dissolve;
May they the fog of our misunderstandings clear away;
May they engender and restore forgiveness, friendship, love.
When I have no more strength to bring forth tears, may my crushed heart
Bring forth the wine of gladness and compassion's shining oil.
When my strength is renewed, may I then end my silent prayer
With hymns that call Thy healing presence down, O Christ our God,
And songs that lull the demons fast asleep forevermore;
For Thou art unto ev’ry age the Conqueror of hell.
 A Prayer after Confession

O Thou True Vine, a thorny, wild, and parasitic branch

Am I, who am more grievous To Thee than the bitter thorns
That crowned Thine head.

So small and dry and brittle, yielding nought but sour grapes,
Yet how am I not withered, broken, dashed, cut off, by Thee,
Thou Sun and Wind?

Instead, Thy wind doth still me; Thy sun maketh me aware,
Of all my faults and failings but also of Thy love, grace,
Mercy, and peace.

Within, Thou art life-giving, light-creating, healing sap,

And, rather than becoming bruised and broken, I bow down,
Thorns burned away.

Without, Thou art the gardener, removing heavy thorns,

Bearing away the heavy burden of my many sins
That I may rise.

I ask for fruit and blossom since I have not yielded such,
That I might give, as it were, wine, not gall, and crown Thine head
With praise, not thorns.

For truly, Lord, Thou hast crowned mine unworthy, shameful head,
With blessings, grace, forgiveness, hast sheltered and covered me,
With love most great.
 A Communicant’s Prayer

I hear the words, ‘With fear of God,

With faith and love, draw near,’
And unworthy to partake
Yet unable to live without partaking,
I approach the chalice with imperfect love,
With unashamed fear.

O Christ God,
I, an empty, soiled, broken vessel,
Bring naked need as my offering,
The need to be restored, cleansed, and filled.

Restore Thy shattered vessel,

Though she fell of her own will
And threw herself down;
Burn away the chaff,
And cleanse Thine handiwork,
Though she corrupted her own garment;
Exchange the stains and tears for adornments of grace.
Fill Thine empty vessel,
Though she discarded the first contents in a moment of madness.
Fill it to overflowing,
That Thine handmaid may bring Thy love and blessings
To a thirsty world.

Sweetest Jesus Christ,

Though mine impure garment maketh me unworthy to enter,
Be Thou my garment of light,
And make me worthy to receive Thee in Thy Mysteries.
Be the light and oil in my lamp
And banish the darkness.
Fill me with Thy living water, O Christ,
That I may never thirst,
And that I, when Thou,
In the poor and needy souls of my neighbours,
Askest me for a drink at the well,
May give it Thee.
A Prayer of Preparation Before Communion

Lo! Today, I come with trembling

To receive Thee in a myst’ry,
Yet, Thy love doth draw me forward,
Doth uphold me as I enter,
As it were, a bridal chamber,
With my lamp near-spent yet burning;
I draw near for its refilling.
Though I come, Lord, to receive Thee,
Would that I could bring an off’ring!
Though I am bestained and wounded,
Once, with myrrh, I was anointed;
May it make me myrrh before Thee.
May I bring myrrh at Thy coming
Like the harlot and like Mary
And the women who did greet Thee
At Thy glorious resurrection.
I revealed my stains before Thee,
With Thy priest as witness standing,
And beneath Thy grace took refuge—
Grace that, like myrrh, floweth from Thee,
And, upon my head, was showered.
It became for me a shelter
That I would not hear the voices
Of the enemies who taunt me,
Of my noisome, clamouring passions
Or of my thoughts, ill-begotten,
Which imagine every evil
And do threaten to forget Thee
Though Thou art forever present.
Thou hast washed me in still waters
And dost set for me a table;
Thou, both Feast and Host, art offered
For my nourishment and cleansing,
Healing and sanctification
So that I may be Thy temple,
Thou, mine indweller and shelter.
Thou didst bid Thy true disciple,
When he doubted, to approach Thee
And to touch Thy most pure body
And the wounds that marked Thy suff’ring,
For Thou heardest his desire
For that very same encounter
When he told it to his brethren.
Thy voice calleth me, and dare I
 Come with boldness as did Thomas,
Thine apostle, at Thy bidding,
To receive within my being
Thee, my Lord and God and Saviour?
Thy love causeth me to come forth,
And to rise from my misgivings,
For Thy Fire will purify me;
Thy dread Light will make me see Thee.
Such, O Lord, is the desire,
Which Thou hast created in me.
O my soul, with faith, go forth now;
In His love and in a myst’ry,
Christ will enter and fulfill it.
A Prayer of Thanksgiving after Communion

Lo! Today, I have receiv`ed

In my body, soiled and slothful,
In my spirit, weak and sinful,
In my mind, confused and wand’ring,
In my heart, all dark and empty,
The Pearl, all divine and priceless,
Who, within the Theotokos,
In an even greater myst’ry,
Did abide in temple worthy.
Her I ask for intercession,
That I may, like her, with beauty,
Be adorned to meet the Bridegroom.
I am not a worthy temple,
Yet my Christ did deign to enter.
He is being formed within me
As His image He restoreth,
While I work and pray and struggle,
And He nourisheth and cleanseth,
Burneth chaff but not my being,
Thorns consumeeth, spareth blossoms,
Through His great and glorious Myst’ries.
What great wonder! How I marvel,
For a living coal bedeweth,
Like the young men in the furnace,
Me, a weed, with greatest sweetness,
And transformeth me each moment
To the likeness of a lily,
That fair flow’r, which Christ did speak of
As more glorious in raiment
Than the wisest son of David.
Both the lily and the sparrow,
As our Lord told His disciples,
Are both comely and of value,
Yet of even greater value
Are His followers and members
Of His body, whom He cleanseth.
With His Flesh and Blood He feedeth,
And He lovingly assureth
That, so great is His love towards them,
And so fully does He know them,
That the very hairs that crown them
Are all numbered and preserv`ed.
Paul, that great apostle, told me
That the selfsame hair is glory,
 Yet if shorn off or uncovered,
It is shame, disgrace, dishonour.
Thus am I, O Christ my Saviour,
Hence, I ask Thee, ev’ry moment,
To array and crown and cover
Me, Thine handmaid whom Thou lovest,
Even though my sins are numbered
In Thy book and though their measure
Doth outnumber all my tresses.
Lamb of God, Thy book is open;
Take away my sins that I may
Not with them, but with my tresses
And with tears and myrrh and chanting,
E’er approach Thee and anoint Thee,
Wipe Thine hallowed feet and kiss them,
Though their steps do make me tremble;
And may I ever receive Thee,
As my nourishment and garment,
Joy, breath, life, hope, strength, and glory,
Beauty, purity, compassion,
Vigilance, discernment, meekness,
Inextinguishable lamp light;
As my Bridegroom and my Father
At the feasts that mark the wedding
And the prodigal’s returning;
As my Healer, Who, when I dare
Touch Thee, taketh my corruption;
As my loving God Who changeth
Harlots into worthy handmaids.
Be within, my friend and helper
And without, my veil and shelter,
Both my strength and my protection.
Make me worthy, as Thou taughtest,
To abide in Thee, and make me
A fair temple for Thy presence.
In Thy Myst’ries, Thou didst enter
And in great compassion sawest
That my body failed with weakness,
That my spirit was despairing,
That my mind was reaching for Thee,
That my heart longed for Thy presence.
In Thy gentle love Thou camest
To bedew me with Thy fire
And to strengthen Thy clay vessel.
Keep Thy lamp all brightly burning;
Give it oil enough for surplus.
 Keep Thine alabastron filled up
With the ointment of Thy mercy.
I am altogether empty
And have strength enough for nothing,
Lord, if Thou art not within me.
Thou didst bid Thy church at one time
To beg Thee for gold and eye salve,
And I come to Thee at all times,
Asking for Thy glorious riches.
Lord, I wonder at Thy bidding,
For Thou art so great and loving
That Thou callest us, when thirsty,
To receive Thy living water,
Not for our refreshment only
But for us to give to others
As Thou truly hast commanded.
O my soul, do not forget this!
Ever listen to thy Lord’s voice,
For He never ceaseth speaking,
Calling thee to come approach Him,
And commanding and enabling
Thee to love Him and thy neighbours.
What is this, that his love cov’reth
And doth vanquish in its brightness
All thy shame, reproach, and sorrow,
Turning them to strength and boldness?
Neither shame nor pride is present
When their dark, false, raging flaming
Is at once expelled, extinguished
By the fire of Love incarnate,
Which bedeweth thee with sweetness
In a myst’ry beyond telling—
Though in words profuse yet halting
Thou hast tried thy best to tell it.
 Prayers in Holy Week

Palm Sunday
The crowd that greeted Thee in triumph and great joy,
Acknowledged Thee and called Thee blessed and knew Thy name,
Would five days later shout for Thine impending death.
Compared with me, this crowd is truly faultless yet.
For I present Thee with a palm and praise Thee, too,
With my lips, yet my mind doth turn, mere moments hence,
From Thee to look on its own worthless wanderings,
Forgetting Thy great vict’ry over sin and death,
Which that crowd had not fully seen or understood.
They saw Thy friend alive after his four days dead,
But they still looked for earthly, finite victory.
I ask not for a sign, O Vanquisher of death;
I hold a palm and chant hosanna unto Thee,
Trusting that Thou wilt save a sinner, even me,
And show me both Thy resurrection and mine own,
That I may cry with children of Jerusalem:
God is the Lord and hath revealed Himself to us!
Bless`ed is He that cometh in the Lord’s great name!

Great and Holy Monday

Thy servants followed Thee into Jerusalem;
I, too, go with Thee. Purify my mind, O Lord,
That I might see Thy voluntary suffering
And die to worldly life to find true life in Thee.
The final triumph Thy disciples had not known;
They went with Thee, expecting suffering also.
Though they did falter, faint with fear on that dread night,
Despite Thy warnings, I fail to keep watch each day
And yield no fruit for Thee and for the hungry poor.
My oil flask runneth dry, and I chant unto Thee,
Remembering Thy promised Kingdom yet to come.
Lord, raise me up to the Jerusalem on high,
Where Thy true Light doth ever shine and keepeth watch.
Look on me now, O Christ, and may Thy countenance
Awaken my faint heart and make my poor soul stand,
Worthy and watching with Thy saints and angel hosts,
Chanting with them ‘Thrice-holy to the Triune God,
And asking Him for mercy through the saints’ great help.

Great and Holy Tuesday

Of grace a talent hast Thou given each of us
And hast commanded us to gain increase for Thee
Through zealous works of goodness, service, splendour, light.
 Thou hast entrusted me with hymns, O Christ my God,
And countless other riches, blessings, gifts of grace,
Adornments that I am not fitting to display.
I am a foolish virgin, not acquiring oil
By blessing others. Lest I lose my stewardship
And become poor and darkened, O Lord, and remain
Outside the bridal chamber of Thy kingdom bright,
I dare approach the door in fear and beg of Thee,
If Thou wilt not let me come in, come out to me.
Enlighten me and cleanse me with Thy presence, Lord,
For there is no goodness in me apart from Thee.
Guide, guard, transform me that I might not long remain
Unfit to stand and sing among Thy choir of saints,
As I cry unto Thee, asking for Thy great joy:
Of it do make me worthy in Thy love for man!

Great and Holy Wednesday

A harlot took the role of myrrh-bearer for Thee.
As she repented, Thou forgavest her in love,
And in return, she loved Thee much and honoured Thee
Before Thy burial. The fragrance of the myrrh
Did fill the house, yet its great redolence came not
So much from its own quality and worth, though great
And costly, but more from Thy presence, O Christ God.
Yet still, hers was the good work done for Thee; hence, Thou
Commandedst that she be remembered everywhere
When Thy life, passion, death, and rising up are preached.
The woman became worthy to behold these things
With Thine apostles and to understand her place,
Perceiving Thy divinity, hearing Thy words.
Thou didst reveal to her the wonder of Thy grace
And also showed the beauty of her love for Thee,
Memorialising it. Remember me, that I
Though more impure than she, might bring Thee tears of myrrh
And cease to trade Thee, as for silver, for vain thoughts
Not turned toward Thee. By Thy rememb’ring me, make me
Ever aware of Thee that I might be for Thee
An offering of love and sacrifice of praise,
Obeying Thy commandments, chanting unto Thee,
With my heart undisturbed and cleansed of sin by Thee.
Anoint me with Thy healing myrrh; transfigure me
As, with the harlot, I cry out in faith and love:
Despise me not, for Thou hast mercy without stint,
And free me from the foulness of my wretched deeds!

Great and Holy Thursday

 Thou calledst Thy disciples to the mystery,
Didst wash them, serve them, and instruct them so to do
For all and for each other, imitating Thee;
And Thou commandedst them to bear good fruit for Thee,
Inviting them to dwell in Thee with Thou in them.
O Vine of life, Thou nourishest the failing branch
With Thine own flesh and blood unto eternal life.
May that food make me fruitful that I be not burned,
Though it, too, is a purifying, living coal.
How fire can feed and food can cleanse or singe the soul,
How Thou, O God, dost condescend to become flesh,
To suffer, die, be broken and poured out to feed
And ransom sinners, cleansing and forgiving them,
Such things are mysteries beyond all word and thought.
In such, I am not worthy to participate
Or even to be present where they do occur.
My merciful Christ God, Thou wilt not banish me
From Thy most holy place. Thou art become the priest
And then the sacrifice and feast, being consumed
And thus indwelling those who eat and changing them
Into restored, clean, clear images of Thyself,
Fit to be set before Thee and to see Thy light.
Accept me as a true partaker of Thy feast,
For I will not reveal it to Thine enemies
But will confess Thee, like the wise thief on Thy right,
And with my heart and voice cry ever unto Thee:
Remember me in Thy kingdom of paradise.

Great and Holy Friday

I wish to bring my senses pure to Thee, O Christ,
And to lay down my soul for Thee, being Thy friend,
But cares threaten to darken me and I deny
Thy name not thrice but ev’ry time I displease Thee.
Look Thou upon me, Lord, that I may, through Thy light,
Be brought to tears of true repentance and of love
And gratitude to Thee for Thy long-suffering.
Thou emptiedst Thyself and put my nature on
That I might put Thee on; Thou sufferedst for all
And for the sake of Thy world, which I do corrupt.
Thou, my Creator, holding all within Thine hands,
Didst once submit to suffer, by men’s sinful hands,
The worst torment that Thy rebellious creatures made.
O Mystery and Mercy! For Thy passion pure,
Thy shameful death, doth take away man’s cause for shame.
When dressed in mockery, crowned, scourged, and crucified,
Thou wast Thy church adorning, cleansing, vesturing,
 Bestowing gifts of grace and healing on Thy bride
As from Thy side flowed water and life-giving blood.
Of these things do I sing, yet speechless is my heart,
Crushed under weight of wonder and of sorrowing
For my cause of Thy suff’ring by my worthless deeds.
May I not be like Judas; may I understand
Thy lovingkindness towards mankind in all Thine acts
And foremost in Thy passion, seeing which, I fall
Before Thee, worshipping, and chanting with Thy saints:
Show us also Thy glorious Resurrection, Lord!

Great and Holy Saturday

I honour Thy death, which put death to death, my Christ;
With myrrh-bearers, I bring a fragrant offering;
And seeking to think not of earthly-minded things,
With angels bright, I dare sing the thrice-holy hymn
And also praise Thy condescension mystical,
From Thy birth to Thy burial ineffable.
Not only didst Thou enter the sealed Virgin’s womb
And take upon Thyself our helpless mortal flesh;
Not only didst Thou dwell with and serve sinners all,
Do works of healing, teach, forgive, and comfort us;
Not only didst Thou deign to be falsely accused,
To undergo the greatest pain and suffering;
Not only didst Thou, Life-giver, submit to die
To taste of death, O sinless One, with criminals,
But also Thou didst condescend to burial
And thence to enter into Hades’ gloomy depths.
Thy flesh, O Cornerstone, was in a sealed, stone tomb;
Thy soul, though Thou wast with the Father, went to free
The dead in hell, to raise them from corruption’s bonds.
Like adamantine rock, Thou brakest death’s brass bars,
For it could not contain Thee, having taken Thee
As mortal and then being overcome by Thee,
Immortal God, Creator, King, and Conqueror.
As darkness would not dare abide under the sun,
Death held Thee not though Thou didst sojourn in its realm.
Thy light was not extinguished but beneath the earth
As if under a basket. It would dawn again
Never to set. Yet, e’en the sun grew faint and dark,
Beholding Thy life-giving death with mournful awe.
Thou workedst this great wonder while Thy death was mourned.
Thy body incorrupt, with which Thou feedest me,
Was lying in a grave like wheat grain in the earth;
Thou, Myrrh of life, by whose hands and stripes I am healed,
Wast washed and then anointed with most precious myrrh;
 Thou, purifier of the robes of wretched souls,
Wast wrapped within a shroud by noble Joseph’s hands.
Like Adam, Thou didst sleep; from Thy side cameth life,
Renewing Eve and Adam’s nature and thus, mine.
Thy wondrous Sabbath rest doth grant eternal rest
And resurrection to Thy fallen race of man,
Of whose nature Thou didst partake, O Christ my God,
And whose flesh Thou now grantest sharing in Thy life.
Divinity alone could bring about such things;
Only the Strength that made all strength could conquer thus;
The sole Immortal One could kill and capture death
When it thought it had captured Him forevermore.
Thus, I see Thy divinity, my Lord and God
In Thy dread passion, death, and honoured burial.
Show me also Thy light and resurrection now,
As I go to Thy tomb with tears and myrrh and hymns,
And with angelic hosts unworthily do sing
To Thee and to Thy Father and Thy Spirit true:
O Thou most holy, mighty, and immortal God,
Have mercy upon us; have mercy upon us!

Great and Holy Pascha

Today, a sacred Pascha is revealed to us;
Today, death is despoiled and truly put to death;
Today, the gates of paradise open to all;
Today, a feast of incorruption is set forth;
Today, the King doth make princes of banished souls;
Today, death’s Conqueror doth raise His triumph song,
Turning our mourning into joy with His sweet voice.
Divine, beloved Word that wast made flesh and died
And rose, O living Bread, unwaning Light of men,
Grant that we may, in the unwaning, bless`ed day
Of Thy bright kingdom, evermore partake of Thee,
For we have seen the first light of that nightless day.
In heaven, angels sing Thy resurrection, Lord;
Christ Saviour, grant that I may also sing to Thee.
I dare to chant, holding a flame, Thy light which Thou
Hast granted in Thy dawning. Grant that these small acts,
By Thy grace, help, protection, and salvation great,
Would help to purify my heart and glorify
Thy name on earth among my fellow fallen men,
Proclaiming the renewal of our downcast race.
I sing to Thee, among men, the triumphal song,
Which I heard when Thou saidst, my Christ, to me, ‘Rejoice!
For I have risen, bringing thee from death to life,
From earth to heaven, from darkness to radiance,
 From noise to rest and silence, from sorrow to song!’
Make Thou my senses ever pure by Thy great light
All unapproachable, that I may see Thy face
As Thou dost now shine forth in Thine eternal dawn.
Eternal Joy, with Thy light blot out sin’s dark stain.
Lord, with the drink of incorruption, cleanse my heart,
That I might, with light-filled creation, sing to Thee,
Having been crucified, buried, and raised with Thee.
Like angels, friends do greet me with the joyful news
O Lamb, of Thy great sacrifice and rising up
Again to shine for us to ages without end.
I hasten after Thee with tears and hymns as myrrh
And beg Thee to arise, O God, and judge the earth
And grant to fallen creatures everlasting life.
While I am seeking, Thou first findest me, my God,
And overshadowed by great awe, I recognise
Thee not at first. But, when Thy sweetest voice divine
Doth call my name, my mind and heart it lighteneth.
Hearing Thee, I wish to approach and touch Thy feet,
Yet I must wait to greet Thee yet again, O lord,
More fully after Thine ascent to Heaven’s heights
Unto Thy Father to prepare a place for me
In Thy great kingdom. Till the ending of the age
Thou, returned Bridegroom, promisest to never leave
Thy people, and Thou grantest us enduring peace.
Thou calledst me by name; I call Thee by Thy name,
My Lord and God, and ask to be made worthy of
Thy promise and that place with Thee in paradise.
Thy resurrection, Christ God, doth ensure these things.
I greet Thee, Sun of Justice, meeting Thee at dawn,
With hymns instead of myrrh, holding a torch for Thee,
O Bridegroom, as Thou, from Thy tomb, proceedest forth.
Now freed from hell, I press forward to Thy great light;
May I see Thee as Thou dost grant salvation great,
Ever renewing oil and light in my soul’s lamp,
While I now feast and chant with festive angel hosts
Of Thy new, mystical, redeeming Passover.
Keeping its seals intact, Thou didst yet leave the tomb;
Thus guard and seal my senses with Thy presence, Lord.
Offer me to the Father with Thyself and make
Me worthy to be offered through Thy Passover.
I find Thee risen; thus I worship Thee with joy.
May my praise be a pleasing offering to Thee.
May it help me to see Thy glory Shining forth;
May it adorn my heart and make it fit for Thee
To enter in and shine Thy bless`ed light therefrom
 To the whole world, eclipsing any false light there.
May my heart shine in joy like New Jerusalem.
Eclipse me and restore my nature’s former state
Before I killed and darkened it. Clothe me in robes
Of immortality, O Thou who didst take on
Human mortality that I might put Thee on
In baptism, be nourished by life-giving food
And be raised up to Thine eternal blessedness,
Sharing that joy and love with others and the world.
For this world and its people my heart grieveth, Lord;
Fill it with light and joy that it be not a cause
For increased trouble, strife, and pain but that it might
Be rather a true source of mercy sent from Thee
And peace, as I do sing my sacrifice of praise,
Which I ask Thee to turn into an image of
Thy Pascha, passion, death, and resurrection bless’d.
Show such to me that I may also work with Thee
In making myself into an icon of Thee
While singing with Thy living icons, numberless:
Christ is arisen, trampling down death by His death!
A Prayer Before the Icon of Christ, Unseen

I once walked into a chamber

Where Thine image was before me,
Yet, I knew not of its presence
Since no voice of man had told me.
And, my eyes were not created
With the power of discerning,
For their sole work is in weeping
Tears of myrrh for my salvation
And for that of ev’ry creature.
Thus, I stood before Thine image,
Unaware of its existence,
But Thou, in a sudden myst’ry,
O Unseen One, there before me
Didst appear, in love and beauty
And in glory passed all telling
And in wise beyond description—
To my heart, the soul’s oil-vessel,
Lamp and eye and inner chamber.
Meeting Thee, more real than matter—
Though Thou once didst take on matter—
All my senses, being filled up,
Shut themselves and then fell silent
As my heart was filled with sweetness
And like wax consumed by fire
Or by gentle heat all melted
And into a seal then molded.
If consumed, may I light offer
And sweet fragrance to Thy dwelling,
And if melted, may I sealed be
By Thee as I find Thee present.
In great love and aw and wonder
I desired to fall before Thee,
But Thy presence kept me upright.
Thou, Whom I am most unworthy
To behold, dost make me able
To behold Thy face before me
And in my heart to enthrone Thee
And in Thine embrace to stand firm,
Being sheltered and providing
Thee a temple and an altar,
Hymn of praise and lamp and incense.
May this be a foretaste, Master,
Of Thy judgment and Thy Kingdom.
Truly Thou hast said that Thou dost
 Thus abide in Thy disciples
And that also we are in Thee.
Only Thy great love for mortals,
O Immortal One, can answer
As the reason for Thy showing
Of Thyself to me beyond sense,
And I pray that in my telling
I am not being imprudent
And that these words be made worthy
To bring glory to Thee, Christ God
And to edify Thy people.
For the world should be reminded,
Of Thy wondrous lovingkindness,
Of the pow’r of Thy pure image,
Of Thy gladsome light and presence,
Which is here if we but seek it.
Thou dost pass through to all places
If we let Thee in, O Saviour.
Thou didst come down through a sealed womb;
From a sealed tomb Thou didst rise up.
Thou didst enter through a locked door
To bring peace to Thine apostles;
Thou dost show Thyself to our hearts
Through sealed eyes and watchful senses.
Better souls than I have taught this,
But since Thou hast granted this gift
Unto me, Thy useless servant,
I have now told of the meeting,
Like the woman at the well told
Of hers to her many neighbours,
Who then sought Thee out. They found Thee
And proclaimed that they believed Thee
Not by reason of her story
But because they, too, had seen Thee.
I wished to remain before Thee
Ever there before Thine image,
As it had conveyed Thy presence.
May’st Thou, Lord, instead be with me
As I walk through Thy creation,
That my neighbours, too, may see Thee.
 A Prayer upon Seeing Darkness in the World

I have often asked Thee, Lord, to light and fill my lamp with oil
That I may be ready at Thy second coming to the world.
As I see the present darkness round about me and within,
I ask also for Thy light that it may overcome the same.
I must tend my lamp not only to receive Thee at the end
But also to stop the darkness with the bound’ry of my heart,
To disarm the noise and chaos by abiding in Thy peace.
O Light-giver, make me radiant and save my sinful soul,
And not only for my sake but for the sake of the whole world.
May I enter Thy bright kingdom at the ending of the age,
And, while waiting, may I be, though small, a vessel for Thy light.
A wise virgin, in humility, will bring along with her
A great throng of others into the Lord’s bridal chamber bright,
For her burning lamp shall guard her and all those who cross her path
From corruption, madness, darkness, though these may at times grow thick.
Lord, I ask Thee now to make me a wise virgin in that throng,
With Thy love burning within me and thence touching all mankind
And as well, Thy whole creation. Ever dwell in me, O Christ!
Another Prayer Against the Darkness, Especially that in One’s Own Heart

I may have oil enough, but without fire, my lamp is useless.

The fire was seen as given in Thy parable, O Master;
and also, Thou wouldst that Thy fire were kindled here already.
O Lord, here is a bit of earth that willeth to receive it;
Though it is but a sinful heart, it would be kindled for Thee.
Thy Forerunner didst say that Thou wouldst cleanse us with the Spirit
And fire; Lord, send Thy fire on earth that longeth for its presence.
A filled, clay lamp must have a flame for oil to be of value,
And earth must have the dew of grace to bring forth any harvest.
Thou, Lord, art both consuming fire and flowing, living water.
 A Prayer While Reflecting on the Sinful Woman

I have no tears and costly myrrh with which to wash Thy feet,
Nor any other fitting thing to offer Thee, my God.
But, may I be, before Thy will, submissive as a dove,
That Thou may’st lead me where Thou art and send me forth to serve,
That I may, freed from passions, freely be poured out for all.
Like tears and water, fragrant oil, thus pour me out, o Lord,
That I might cleanse and brighten, cheer and gladden, and give life
From Thee to all my neighbours and thereby, with virtues sure,
To strengthen and support my hymns of worship unto Thee.
Though I am yet more sinful than the harlot and have less
To offer than did she, I give my being and my song
To suffer, serve Thy people, and to please and gladden Thee—
Though I do grieve Thee much and would that I did not, O Lord—
That Thou may’st then, with Thy word, grant me joy and strength to toil,
Unwearying and watchful till the ending of the age
When I shall stand before Thee, see Thy face, and be all tears.
On Weeping

O mine eyes, ye have but one task

In this life and earthly sojourn.
Ye must give birth to compunction,
Which, within the heart, is nurtured.
Most men's eyes are freely open,
And the heart perceiveth through them
And expresseth itself also.
Ye, albeit, have a sealed door
From without, that ye may better
Do the task that ye were given
And attend only to weeping
For my sins and for salvation,
Peace, and blessings for the whole world.
My heart will keep vigil for you,
Waiting for the Lord's great answer
When He maketh your tears vanish.
Till then, let them fall in longing.

Bear your fruit until He cometh.

Leave off only when you see Him
In His grace and love appearing.
Not until you close in silence,
Death thus having come upon me,
May you cease your gentle labour--
As the heart hath greater struggle.
If Christ cometh ere my dying,
Dread not; give Him tears that He may
Ever wipe them and draw from them
New and pleasing songs and praises.
Polyeleos

For my Lord I will fashion lines that may tell of His kindness;
For His mercy endureth unto the ages of ages.
As we tread the hard road, His love is soft grass on firm earth;
For His mercy endureth unto the ages of ages.
When we weep, it is linen on which tears fall and find favour;
For His mercy endureth unto the ages of ages.
It prepareth as linen, hearts for the seal of His image;
For His mercy endureth unto the ages of ages.
It is fine cloth that gently scoureth away our transgressions;
For His mercy endureth unto the ages of ages.
It is garment and armour for our protection and beauty;
For His mercy endureth unto the ages of ages.
It is manna that strengtheneth, precious ointment that healeth,
For His mercy endureth unto the ages of ages.
And it sweeteneth all things yet sharply purgeth corruption.
For His mercy endureth unto the ages of ages.
In His Love, our Lord openeth gracious ears to our singing,
For His mercy endureth unto the ages of ages.
And in love, He replieth with endless songs of compassion.
For His mercy endureth unto the ages of ages.
Hymns Upon Hymns

I hear a priest proclaim God’s gracious word;

I feel an icons piercing, loving glance;
A deacon urgeth me to send the Lord
My prayers for all in ev’ry circumstance.
I read great things wrought by the Spirit’s breath
In Scriptures, fathers’ sayings, treatises,
In tales of a saint’s life, a martyr’s death,
In golden speeches, hymns, and discourses.
Such things beget response. I then abound
In praise and supplication, ‘thrice-holy’s,’
Awed silences and sometimes word and sound,
In ‘Lord, have mercy’s’ and doxologies.
With joy I sing and write, and, too, with fear
As I add hymns upon the hymns I hear.