O God, O God, who callest me, be now the comfort of my house, for great the wailing is befalling them; for they all have regard to me, even they who have me as a sole-begotten one. But thou who wast of Virgin Mother born, refresh the bowels of my mother, and bedew my father’s heart, even with this, the Alleluia. _Then the condakion, tone viii._ Rest with the Saints.... _Ode vii. Irmos._ The hebrew children in the furnace. _Refrain._ Rest thou the babe, O Lord. Write in the book of them that saved be, as lover of mankind compassionate, thy babe, that he rejoicing may exclaim to thy might’s glory, Thou art bless’d. By, O thou Word, thy countenance’s light, illuminate thy babe, who now to thee in faith, at an untimely age, is gone, and sings to thee, Thou blessed art, O Lord, O God. _Glory._ Affliction’s cause thy going hence now seemeth unto them that thee have lov’d, but unto thee procuracy in truth of gladness and of joy; for thou, O babe, inheritest eternal life. _Both now. Theotokion._ Behold my grief, O Virgin, which th’ abundance of mine ills doth bring on me, and ere my going hence give me refreshment by thy mother prayers to make God merciful to me. _Ode viii. Irmos._ The furnace seven times more.... _Refrain._ Rest thou the babe, O Lord. In Abraham’s bosom, in tabernacles of repose, where is their joy who ever festal keep, in places of refreshment where living water is, may Christ thee place, yea, he who for our sake became a child, even ours who unto him cry ceaselessly, O priests, extol him, and, O people, set him up for aye. A constant cause of grief to us, yea, and for tears, thine ever thought on parting is in truth become; for ere the tasting in this life of things that give delight thou hast left earth, yea, and thy parents’ breasts. But Abraham’s bosom hath received thee, as babe, and unparticipant of every stain. _Glory._ Why mourn ye me, a babe, that hence is gone? lying he cries invisibly: for I am wont not to be mourn’d; for destin’d is the joy of all the just for babes: to them that works perform not there meetness is for tears. But those the song upraise to Christ, O priests, extol him, and, O people, set him up for aye. _Both now. Theotokion._ To mine assistance, O God-bearing one, arise, attend unto my prayer, and me deliver from the dreadful doom, the grave essay, the darkness, and the fire, the gnashing of the teeth, the contumely of demons, and from every need, thou hope of them that have no hope, thou, the despairing’s life. _Ode ix. Irmos._