_And the prayer_, O God of spirits.... _Page 139._
_Condakion, tone viii._
Rest with the Saints, O Christ, thy servant’s soul, where is no pain, nor
grief, nor sighing, but life that endeth not.
_Icos._
Thyself alone immortal art, who madest and didst fashion man, for out of
earth we mortals fashion’d were, and unto that same earth shall go, as
thou who madest me hast given command, and sayest unto me, Earth thou
art, and unto earth shalt thou return. And thither all we mortals go,
making the funeral wail, even the song, the _Alleluia_.
Hearken in thoughtful wise, I pray; for I with pain these words announce;
yea, for your sake I make the wail: it may for profit be to some. But
when ye have to sing these words, remember me who once was known;
for ofttimes we together went, and in God’s house together sang the
_Alleluia_.
Arise ye then, and gather ye together all, and, sitting down, hear ye a
word, Brethren, the judgment-seat is dread, where we have every one to
stand. There none is slave, and none is free; there none is little, none
is great; but all in nakedness shall stand: for this cause it is well to
sing ofttimes the psalm, the _Alleluia_.
Bewail we all with tears as we behold the relics lie, and all approaching
them to kiss let us in equal wise exclaim, Lo, thou hast left them who
thee lov’d: wilt thou not speak with us again? Why dost thou speak not,
friend, as thou wast wont to speak to us? But so thou silent art, even to
say with us the _Alleluia_.
What, brethren, are the dying’s bitter words, which, when they go, they
say? I from the brethren parted am, I quit and leave you all, O friends.
Then where I go I do not know, and how I shall be there know not: God
only knows, who calleth me. But make ye my memorial with the song, the
_Alleluia_.
Then where now go the souls? then how now fare they there? I long to
learn the mystery; but none sufficient is to tell. Do they remember their
own things, as we remember them? or have they us forgotten who are left,
who them lament and make the song, the _Alleluia_.
Accompany the dead, O friends, and to the grave with heed hie ye,
and muse ye there in thoughtful wise, and your own feet prepare: all
youthfulness is cast therein, all vigour fadeth there: there dust and
ashes are, and worms: there all is silence, and none saying _Alleluia_.
Lo, now we see him lying, but to us no presence is of him: behold,
the tongue now silent is, and, lo, already cease the lips. Farewell, O
friends, O children; be ye saved, O ye brethren, O acquaintance, be ye
sav’d; for I depart my way. But make ye my memorial with the song, the
_Alleluia_.
Not one of those who there hath gone doth live again to tell to us how
they, our brethren once and kinsfolk, fare who there have come before the
Lord. Therefore, we oft, yea, ever say, Do they each other there behold?
do they a brother see? do they together say the psalm, the _Alleluia_?
We go the everlasting way in mien as them that are condemn’d, with faces
all cast down. Then where is beauty? where is wealth? then where the
glory of this life? Nothing of these shall help us there, even to say
ofttimes the psalm, the _Alleluia_.
Why in untimely wise disquietest thou thyself, O man? one hour, and all
is gone; for there in hades no repentance is, nor any further pardon
there: the never-dying worm is there, all there is dark and gloomy land,
where I must come to be condemn’d. For I have not ofttimes made speed to
say the psalm, the _Alleluia_.
Nothing so soon forgotten is by man as man when he is gone; for, if we
do remember for a time, we straightway death forget, when absent is the
dead. And parents even every child forget, that, of the womb begot, they
nourish’d have, and have with tears accompanied with the song, the
_Alleluia_.
I remind you, O my brethren, and my children, and my friends, that ye
forget me not when ye beseech the Lord. I pray, I ask, I make entreaty
that ye keep these words in memory, and bewail me day and night. I
speak to you as Job did to his friends, O sit ye down to say again the
_Alleluia_.
Forsaking all things we depart, and naked and abhorrent we become; for
comeliness doth fade away as grass, but only do we men delude ourselves.
Thou naked, wretched one, wast born, and altogether naked there shalt
stand! Then be not prodigal in life, O man; but only always sigh with
wailing, _Alleluia_.
If thou, O man, art merciful to man, he there shall mercy have to show to
thee; and if to any orphan hast been kind, he there shall thee deliver
out of need; if thou in life the naked clothed hast, he there shall
clothing have to put on thee, and sing the psalm, the _Alleluia_.
The way is evil whereby I depart, and therein so I never went; that
country also is unknown, where me none recognize at all. ’Tis fearful
them to see who dreadfully are led, and him who me hath call’d, who
ruleth life and death, and there us biddeth when he willeth. _Alleluia._
If from some country we depart, we of some guides have need. What shall
we do, and whither go, that country in, where we are quite unknown? To
thee will then be needful many guides, and many prayers to go with thee
to save thy wretched soul, ere it attain to Christ, and say to him, the
_Alleluia_.
They that to lusts material subject are, in nowise have forgiveness
there: there terrible accusers are, and there too opened are the books.
Then where, O man, wilt thou glance round? or who will there then thee
assist? save thou in life hast wrought some good, or done some kindness
to the poor, singing the _Alleluia_.
Both youth and bodily beauty fade away in time of death, and then in
painful wise is parch’d the tongue, and, dried up, is scorch’d the
throat, then quenched is the beauty of the eyes, all chang’d the beauty
of the face, the beauty of the neck is spoil’d, and what remaineth silent
is to say ofttimes the _Alleluia_.
Keep silence then, keep silence: O ye survivors, be ye still before him
lying there, and contemplate the mystery great; for fearful is the hour.
Hush, that the soul may go in peace; for it endureth anguish great, and
in much fear beseecheth God with _Alleluia_.
I have seen an infant dying, and for my life have wept; for it was
altogether scar’d, and, when its hour came, trembling cried, O father,
help me; mother, save me! and none sufficient was to help it then: they
only griev’d beholding, and in the grave bewail’d it. _Alleluia._
How many on a sudden have been taken from their bridal to the grave,
betroth’d been with an everlasting troth, have costless made the dirge,
and from the chamber have not risen; but together there was marriage and
the grave, together troth and parting, together laughter and the wail,
yea, and the psalm, the _Alleluia_.
We are enflam’d when only hearing that everlasting light is there, there
our life’s fount, and there eternal joy: the paradise is there where
every soul rejoiceth with the just. We all in Christ shall gather’d be,
that so to God we all may cry the _Alleluia_.
All-holy Virgin, thou unwedded one, who didst bring forth th’
approachless light, I pray, entreaty make, and beg, Cease not to pray the
Lord concerning him, thy sleeping servant, thou most pure, that in the
day of judgment he may find forgiveness there; for thou, as Queen all
pure, to pray thy Son hast always boldness. _Alleluia_.
_Then again the condakion._