service files weekday_vespers4.md

WEEKDAY VESPERS

Glory. Both now.

Other Stichera. Of the Bodiless Powers. Same melody.

**Theotokion. Same melody.**

ON SUNDAY EVENING

The corruption of the passions tyrannises over me and clouds the pupils of my heart, and I have no strength at all to see the ways of salvation. As I advance I go astray, Archangels, and I am hurled headlong into the deep pits of Hell. But when I call to mind your wonders, I am cured of all my sickness. Oh that now I could quickly see your kindness! Hasten to quench the flame of my passions, all-honoured ones, guiding me to the light of salvation, and giving me release from my evils.

I have cried*,* **Prosomia of the Lord.**

The Evil One, who at first shone with you as the Morning Star, had the same degree of glory as you, Chief Captains. But out of evil the opponent was borne down to earth and became murky in darkness, and he was eager to dash me down with him, I who had been honoured with the image of the Maker. Nevertheless, though I fell headlong, Christ raised me up. Appear then for me in my wretchedness as defenders and providers and wise protectors, asking also for his great mercy.

Hail, of ascetics.

I should have become in accordance with God’s image and been numbered with you, and not, alas, bowed down entirely to the evil foe; but by the advice of the boaster I did not rival you, I spurned the commandment and fell from the honour of the Maker, O Archangels, and I am dragged down by slavery. Nevertheless, seeing me wholly yielded to the passions, give me your hand to the path which bears me upwards, as you beg that I may find salvation and the ancient glory of my beauty.

Alas for one who has enraged you, my merciful God and Lord! How many times have I promised to repent, my Christ, and been found out a senseless liar. Earlier I befouled my baptismal garment, the agreements I made with you I disregarded; and yet again this second promise, which I confessed to you before Angels and men, when I put on the habit of mourning, I have set at naught; but, Saviour, do not at the end let me be destroyed.

Make your illumination shine for me, who am in the darkness of dread things, O Virgin Mother, who conceived the light of truth and gave birth to God in the flesh; bring up speedily from the deep of despair, and establish on the rock of a sure way of life the steps of my soul; condemn the demons who ceaselessly make war on me; quickly end the pain of my miserable heart, O hope of the ends of the earth, who grant the world great mercy.

Wretched soul, what defence do you have on the day of judgement? Or who will rescue you from the sentence of eternal fire and all the torments? No one can make the Compassionate have mercy, except you yourself by abandoning your unlawful acts, by obtaining a way of life pleasing to God, by weeping each day over your numberless falls, by which you stumble hour by hour in deed and word and thought, by asking Christ to grant you for all these complete pardon.

O Saviour, do not let the compelling habit of sin master me; do not let the demon, who makes constant war on me, lord it over me and bring me down to his will; but snatch me from his mastery, and reigning in me, Lover of humankind, count me worthy to become wholly yours and to live, O Word, according to your will, to take my rest in you, and to find pardon and salvation and your great mercy.