Ode 5. Irmos. Rising at dawn.

You offered sacrifice without shedding of blood to the Master, while you brought yourself as fruit through blood, glorious Martyr.

You godlike tongue let fall drops of salvation; the stream of your blood spiritual joy.

The grace of your words strengthened the Church, and set you, blest Saint, as a pillar of orthodoxy.

The ranks of angels and the companies of mortals worship your Offspring, immaculate Mother of God.