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OH, ALL-HYMNED ONE! Pray for those who've gone astray.

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  • byakimov@csc.com.au
    OH, ALL-HYMNED ONE! For all who sorrow, oh Most Pure One, Who art the gleam of tears all trembling in their eyes, To Whom turn all those who feel quite undone,
    Message 1 of 1 , Sep 11, 2003
      OH, ALL-HYMNED ONE!

      For all who sorrow, oh Most Pure One,
      Who art the gleam of tears all trembling in their eyes,
      To Whom turn all those who feel quite undone,
      For all who toil, oh Sharer of their sighs,
      Who from all other chosen wert by God,
      As the brightest saint Who this earth has trod,
      To bear the One Who cannot be expressed,
      To bear Him Whom God hath made manifest,
      Who art raised higher than the Cherubim,
      Transfigured well above the Seraphim,
      Oh star of heaven - bright for all eternity,
      Oh star of miracles upon this earth proclaimed,
      Undying flower of incorruptibility,
      Oh Burning Bush which burns, yet whole itself remains,
      Light of salvation, light which never dies,
      Oh earthly depth which fathoming defies,
      Who art of all the chosen loving peace,
      The comforter of all those who are banished,
      The source of sweetness of those who are famished,
      Of those in pain bright joy of prompt release,
      In times of triumph, times of tribulation
      Divine protection, shield of all salvation,
      All-Hymned One, plead for those who've lost their way,
      All-Hymned One, pray for those who've gone astray.

      - V. Utrenev Translated by Kosara Gavrilovic

      THE FOREST MONASTICS
      Deep in the forest I recall one night.
      A lonely skete gleamed like the Milky Way,
      A single bell's ringing rose through the mist
      And marked the passing of the dying day.
      Beneath the benediction of the bell,
      The pines, erect and tall, motionless stayed.
      Before the ancient icons of the saints
      The forest elders stood there long and prayed.
      In that vast sea of forest peace, remain
      The monks like forms of other-worldly life.
      There is no grief, no groans of human pain,
      No age-long enmities, no hurt, no strife.
      All that is left behind, outside the Pale -
      The agony of years, all gone to waste,
      The tears. Abandoned also was the trail
      Of days whose very trace is here erased.
      And when again the sun sends forth its rays,
      Into God's Garden, which no eye can see,
      This forest turns. A myriad-voiced praise
      Is raised and with the incense of each tree
      Sent to the Sun of all Eternity.

      - V. Utrenev. Translated by Kosara Gavrilovic.
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