Ode 7. The Irmos.

Of the Angels. The same Irmos.

Three Youths in Babylon held the tyrant’s command as idle chatter, and in the midst of the fire they cried aloud: Blessed are you, the God of our fathers.

To what shall I liken you, alas, my wretched soul, who love foul things and do not seek the good? And so before the end hasten to show proof of good ways.

Give me showers of tears, O Christ, that I may weep over my wicked deeds; and do not allow me now to perish, Saviour, who have offended you greatly more than all.

Of the Martyrs.

Bearing in your flesh the death of the Word, who was put to death, you put error to death. Having died you live in glory and cure those put to death by passions, O Athletes.

What place is there now, glorious Martyrs, which does not have you as guides to light and towers of defence? What country does not shine with your struggles and the sunrise of your healings?

You alone, Sovereign Lady, remain after childbirth radiant in the beauty of virginity You alone escaped the pangs of mothers; for you alone bore God, the Redeemer of our souls.

With the spiritual Angels as witnesses of our deeds, let us be drawn to lead pure lives as we cry out: Blessed are you, O Lord, the God of our fathers.

Cleansed by a coal the godly Isaias sees the Seraphim standing around your throne and cries: Blessed are You, O Lord, the God of our fathers.

As she who bore the maker and Lord of all, you clearly surpass the ranks of Bodiless Powers, All-pure Virgin. Blessed is the fruit of your womb!