Some Hymns for Vespers of Holy and Great Friday (Strict Fast)
Aposticha of Good Friday Vespers [on the eve before the Holy Sabbath]:
[tone 2]
Down from the Tree Joseph of Arimathea took Thee dead,
Who art the Life of All,
and he wrapped Thee, O Christ, in a linen cloth with spices.
Moved in his heart by love,
he kissed Thy most pure body with his lips;
yet, drawing back in fear, he cried to Thee rejoicing:
Glory to Thy self-abasement, O Thou Who lovest mankind.
Vs: The Lord is king and hath put on glorious apparel.
When Thou, the Redeemer of all, wast laid for the sake of all in a new tomb,
hell was brought down to scorn and, seeing Thee, drew back in fear.
The bars were broken and the gates were shattered,
the tombs were opened and the dead arose.
Then Adam in thanksgiving and rejoicing cried to Thee:
Glory to Thy self-abasement, O Thou Who lovest mankind.
Vs: He hath made the world so sure, that it cannot be moved.
In the flesh Thou wast of Thine own will enclosed within the tomb,
yet in Thy divine nature Thou dost remain uncircumscribed and limitless.
Thou hast shut up the treasury of hell, O Christ, and emptied all his palaces.
Thou hast honored this Sabbath with Thy divine blessing, with Thy glory and Thy radiance.
Vs: Holiness becometh Thine house, O Lord, forever.
The powers of heaven beheld Thee, O Christ,
falsely accused by lawless men as a deceiver,
and they saw the stone before Thy tomb sealed by the hands
which had pierced Thy most pure side;
and they were filled with fear at Thine ineffable forbearance.
Yet, rejoicing at our salvation, they cried aloud to Thee:
Glory to Thy self-abasement, O Thou Who lovest mankind.
Glory be to the Father...Now and ever...
[tone 5/plagal of tone 1]
Joseph with Nicodemus took Thee down from the Tree,
Who deckst Thyself with light as with a garment;
and looking upon Thee dead, stripped and without burial,
in his grief and tender compassion he lamented, saying:
Woe is me, my sweetest Jesus!
When but a little while ago the sun saw Thee hanging on the Cross,
it wrapped itself in darkness:
the earth quaked with fear and the veil of the temple was rent in twain.
And now I see Thee for my sake submitting of Thine own will to death.
How shall I bury Thee, my God?
How shall I wrap Thee in a winding sheet?
How shall I touch Thy most pure Body with my hands?
What song at Thy departure shall I sing to Thee, O compassionate Saviour?
I magnify Thy sufferings;
I sing the praises of Thy burial and Thy Resurrection,
crying: O Lord, glory be to Thee!
[tone 2]
Down from the Tree Joseph of Arimathea took Thee dead,
Who art the Life of All,
and he wrapped Thee, O Christ, in a linen cloth with spices.
Moved in his heart by love,
he kissed Thy most pure body with his lips;
yet, drawing back in fear, he cried to Thee rejoicing:
Glory to Thy self-abasement, O Thou Who lovest mankind.
Vs: The Lord is king and hath put on glorious apparel.
When Thou, the Redeemer of all, wast laid for the sake of all in a new tomb,
hell was brought down to scorn and, seeing Thee, drew back in fear.
The bars were broken and the gates were shattered,
the tombs were opened and the dead arose.
Then Adam in thanksgiving and rejoicing cried to Thee:
Glory to Thy self-abasement, O Thou Who lovest mankind.
Vs: He hath made the world so sure, that it cannot be moved.
In the flesh Thou wast of Thine own will enclosed within the tomb,
yet in Thy divine nature Thou dost remain uncircumscribed and limitless.
Thou hast shut up the treasury of hell, O Christ, and emptied all his palaces.
Thou hast honored this Sabbath with Thy divine blessing, with Thy glory and Thy radiance.
Vs: Holiness becometh Thine house, O Lord, forever.
The powers of heaven beheld Thee, O Christ,
falsely accused by lawless men as a deceiver,
and they saw the stone before Thy tomb sealed by the hands
which had pierced Thy most pure side;
and they were filled with fear at Thine ineffable forbearance.
Yet, rejoicing at our salvation, they cried aloud to Thee:
Glory to Thy self-abasement, O Thou Who lovest mankind.
Glory be to the Father...Now and ever...
[tone 5/plagal of tone 1]
Joseph with Nicodemus took Thee down from the Tree,
Who deckst Thyself with light as with a garment;
and looking upon Thee dead, stripped and without burial,
in his grief and tender compassion he lamented, saying:
Woe is me, my sweetest Jesus!
When but a little while ago the sun saw Thee hanging on the Cross,
it wrapped itself in darkness:
the earth quaked with fear and the veil of the temple was rent in twain.
And now I see Thee for my sake submitting of Thine own will to death.
How shall I bury Thee, my God?
How shall I wrap Thee in a winding sheet?
How shall I touch Thy most pure Body with my hands?
What song at Thy departure shall I sing to Thee, O compassionate Saviour?
I magnify Thy sufferings;
I sing the praises of Thy burial and Thy Resurrection,
crying: O Lord, glory be to Thee!
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