Ode 4. The Irmos.

Of the Bodiless Powers. Another Irmos.

From a shaded mountain, O Word, the Prophet understood that you were to become incarnate of the only Mother of God; and in fear he glorified your power.

Ah how great the struggle of the departed soul, how dread the terror when the Judge takes his seat and those who have sinned are judged. Alas, what shall I do, condemned as I am.

Though my heart is infected with pollutions and I carry the insupportable burden of sins, I have recourse to your pity; do not despise me, but take pity on me, I implore.

Of the Martyrs.

Noble Martyrs, your death has been shown to be precious in the sight of God, for though you were encircled by ten thousand pains and tortures you did not deny him.

At the pain of the Martyrs the foe was pained, his arrogance collapsed; and their Prize-giver, glorified with godly songs, is magnified.

With faith I implore you, Mother of God, the pure vessel of the Master, purify me from every stain, and make me a home for the pure Spirit of God.

Chief pair of the company of Archangels, save those who have recourse to your protection from every danger.

All-glorious Archangels, who contemplate the divine radiance, giver of all good, now deliver your flock.

The godlike armies of the Bodiless Powers reverently glorify you, all-honoured Mother of God; for you bore their Creator.