Aposticha of Lauds. Of Compunction.
Anastasis liturgical translations — translated by Ephrem Lash
Glory. Both now.
**Theotokion.**
Alas, why have I been likened to the barren fig tree, and quail at the curse with the felling? But Christ God, heavenly husbandman, make my parched soul fruitful, and like the Prodigal Son accept me and have mercy on me.
Overlook the multitudes of my offences, Lord, born of a Virgin, and wiping away all my iniquities, grant me the thought of returning, I beg, as you alone love mankind, and have mercy on me.
Of the Martyrs.
Blessed is the army of the King of heaven; for though the champions were born of earth, yet they hastened to attain the angelic rank, despising their bodies and through their sufferings being found worthy of the honour of the Bodiless Powers. At their prayers, Lord, send down to us your great mercy.
Make an end to the toil of my soul with its many groans, All-holy Virgin-mother, who made an end of every tear from the face of the earth; for you drive away the griefs of mortals, you abolish the dejection of sinners. We have all gained you as hope and support.
Translated by Ephrem Lash. Edition lash.en.anastasis.