Ode 6.

Longing to see your beauty uncontrived, the Martyrs, wounded with your most sweet love, O Word without beginning, nobly endured the bitterness of torments.

The all-revered Maidens blossomed like lilies in a meadow, and by the grace of the Spirit they filled the Church with the fragrance of torments of many kinds.

Longing only for the immortal Bridegroom, the young Maidens, strengthened with invisible force, outstandingly reckoned nothing to visible death.

Holy is the Lord who dwelt in your womb, having found you holier and more pure than all creation, O rightly named Mother of God, immaculate Lady.

I will sacrifice to you with a voice of praise, O Lord, the Church cries to you, cleansed from the gore of demons by the Blood which flowed through pity from your side.