Hymns of the Eastern Church

tr. Neale, 1862

2. S. Andrew of Crete

Stichera for Great Thursday

τὸ μέγα μυστήριον.

O the mystery, passing wonder,
When, reclining at the board,
“Eat,” Thou saidst to Thy Disciples,
“That True Bread with quickening stored:
“Drink in faith the healing chalice
“From a dying God outpoured.”

Then the glorious upper chamber
A celestial tent was made,
When the bloodless rite was offered,
And the soul’s true service paid,
And the table of the feasters
As an altar stood displayed.

Christ is now our mighty Pascha,
Eaten for our mystic bread:
As a lamb led out to slaughter,
And for this world offered:
Take we of His broken body,
Drink we of the Blood He shed.

To the Twelve spake Truth eternal,
To the Branches spake the Vine:
Never more from this day forward
Shall I taste again this wine,
Till I drink it in the kingdom
Of my Father, and with Mine.

Thou hast stretched those hands for silver
That had held the immortal food;
With those lips that late had tasted
Of the Body and the Blood,
Thou hast given the kiss, O Judas;
Thou hast heard the woe bestowed.

Christ to all the world gives banquet
On that most celestial meat:
Him, albeit with lips all earthly,
Yet with holy hearts we greet:
Him, the sacrificial Pascha,
Priest and Victim all complete.

Troparia for Palm Sunday

Ἰησοῦς ὑπὲρ τοῦ κόσμου

Jesus, hastening for the world to suffer,
Enters in, Jerusalem, to thee:
With His Twelve He goeth forth to offer
That free Sacrifice He came to be.

They that follow Him with true affection
Stand prepared to suffer for His Name:
Be we ready then for man’s rejection,
For the mockery, the reproach, the shame.

Now in sorrow, sorrow finds its healing:
In the form wherein our father fell,
Christ appears, those quick’ning Wounds revealing,
Which shall save from sin and death and hell.

Now, Judæa, call thy Priesthood nigh thee!
Now for Deicide prepare thy hands!
Lo thy Monarch, meek and gentle, by thee!
Lo! the Lamb and Shepherd in thee stands!

To thy monarch, Salem, give glad greeting!
Willingly He hastens to be slain,
For the multitude His entrance meeting
With their false Hosanna’s ceaseless strain.
Blest is He that comes, they cry,
On the Cross for man to die!

The Great Canon

Πόθεν ἄρξομαι θρηνεῖν.

Whence shall my tears begin?
What first-fruits shall I bear
Of earnest sorrow for my sin?
Or how my woes declare?
Oh Thou! the Merciful and Gracious One!
Forgive the foul transgressions I have done.

With Adam I have vied,
Yea, pass’d him, in my fall;
And I am naked now, by pride
And lust made bare of all;
Of Thee, O God, and that Celestial Band,
And all the glory of the Promised Land.

No earthly Eve beguil’d
My body into sin:
A spiritual temptress smiled,
Concupiscence within:
Unbridled passion grasp’d the unhallow’d sweet:
Most bitter—ever bitter—was the meat.

If Adam’s righteous doom,
Because he dared transgress
Thy one decree, lost Eden’s bloom
And Eden’s loveliness:
What recompense, O Lord, must I expect,
Who all my life Thy quickening laws neglect?

By mine own act, like Cain,
A murderer was I made:
By mine own act my soul was slain,
When Thou wast disobeyed:
And lusts each day are quickened, warring still
Against the soul with many a deed of ill.

Thou formed’st me of clay,
O Heav’nly Potter! Thou
In fleshly vesture didst array,
With life and breath endow.
Thou Who didst make, didst ransom, and dost know,
To Thy repentant creature pity show!

My guilt for vengeance cries;
But yet Thou pardonest all,
And whom Thou lov’st Thou dost chastise,
And mourn’st for them that fall:
Thou, as a Father, mark’st our tears and pain,
And welcomest the prodigal again.

I lie before Thy door,
O turn me not away!
Nor in mine old age give me o’er
To Satan for a prey!
But ere the end of life and term of grace,
Thou Merciful! my many sins efface!

The Priest beheld, and pass’d
The way he had to go:
A careless glance the Levite cast,
And left me to my woe:
But Thou, O Jesu, Mary’s Son, console,
Draw nigh, and succour me, and make me whole!

Thou Spotless Lamb divine,
Who takest sin away,
Remove far off the load that mine
Upon my conscience lay:
And, of Thy tender mercy, grant thou me
To find remission of iniquity!

Stichera for the Second Week of the Great Fast

οὐ γὰρ βλέπεις τοὺς ταράττοντας.

Christian! dost thou see them
On the holy ground,
How the troops of Midian
Prowl and prowl around?
Christian! up and smite them,
Counting gain but loss:
Smite them by the merit
Of the Holy Cross!

Christian! dost thou feel them,
How they work within,
Striving, tempting, luring,
Goading into sin?
Christian! never tremble!
Never be down-cast!
Smite them by the virtue
Of the Lenten Fast!

Christian! dost thou hear them,
How they speak thee fair?
Always fast and vigil?
Always watch and prayer?
Christian! answer boldly:
While I breathe I pray:
Peace shall follow battle,
Night shall end in day.

“Well I know thy trouble,
O My servant true;
Thou art very weary,—
I was weary too:
But that toil shall make thee
Some day, all Mine own:
But the end of sorrow
Shall be near My Throne.”

Meso-pentecost · Ode I

Thou turnedst the Sea.

Exult, ye Gentiles! mourn, ye Hebrews! Christ,
Giver of Life, hath burst
The fetters of the Tomb:
And rais’d the dead again, and heal’d the sick.
This is our God, Who giveth health
To every soul believing on His Name.

Marvel of marvels! Thou, O Lord, didst turn
The water into wine,
As once Thou spak’st the word
To Egypt’s river, and forthwith ’twas blood.
All praise to Thee, O Lord, Who now
By laying down Thy glory, man renew’st!

O overflowing stream of truest life,
Our Resurrection, Lord!
Thou for our sakes didst toil,
Thou for our sakes—so Nature will’d—didst thirst:
And resting Thee by Sichar’s well,
Of the Samaritan didst seek to drink.

Thou blessest bread, Thou multipliest fish,
Incomprehensible!
Thou freely feed’st the crowd,
And givest Wisdom’s spring to thirsting men.
Thou art our Saviour, O our God!
Giver of Life to them that trust in Thee!

Glory

Three co-eternal, co-enthroned, I laud:
The Unbegotten Sire,
And Co-existent Son,
And Spirit, co-eternal with the Twain:
Tri-hypostatic Essence! One
In might and majesty and Godhead sole.

Both now

Mother of God! Thou only didst contain
The Uncontainable;
And brought’st the Infant forth,
Ineffable in Thy Virginity.
Hence without ceasing, O most pure,
Vouchsafe to call down blessing on Thy flock!

Catavasia

Thou turn’d’st the sea to land, when Thou didst whelm
Pharaoh and all his host,
His chariot and his horse:
And ledd’st Thy people to the Holy Mount.
Sing we, said they, to Thee our God,
Mighty in war, this Ode of Victory!