Apr. 22nd, 2011

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Memory eternal, Vladyka Job. This is so beautiful and what a lovely memory to leave. One of the most moving antiphons of Holy Week to me.


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O sacred Head, now wounded, with grief and shame weighed down,

Now scornfully surrounded with thorns, Thine only crown;

How pale Thou art with anguish, with sore abuse and scorn!

How does that visage languish, which once was bright as morn



What language shall I borrow to thank Thee, dearest friend,

For this Thy dying sorrow, Thy pity without end?

O make me Thine forever, and should I fainting be,

Lord, let me never, never outlive my love to Thee.

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January 2012

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