Written by Simeon Metaphrastes

     A h, tears upon mine eyelids, sorrow on mine heart,
       I bring Thee soul-repentance, Creator as Thou art!
     B ounding joyous actions, deep as arrows go;
       Pleasures self-revolving, issue into woe!
     C reatures of our mortal, headlong rush to sin:
       I have seen them; of them -- ah me, -- I have been!
     D uly pitying Spirits, from your spirit-frame,
       Bring your cloud of weeping, -- worthy of the same!

     E lse I would be bolder; if that light of Thine,
       Jesus, quell the evil, let it on me shine!
     F ail me truth, is living, less than death forlorn,
       When the sinner readeth -- "better be unborn"?
     G od, I raise toward Thee both eyes of my heart,
       With a sharp cry -- "Help me!" -- while mine hopes depart.
     H elp me! Death is bitter, all hearts comprehend;
       But I fear beyond it -- end beyond the end.

     I nwardly behold me, how my soul is black:
       Sympathize in gazing, do not spurn me back!
     K nowing that Thy pleasure is not to destroy,
       That Thou fain wouldst save me -- this is all my joy.
     L o, the lion, hunting spirits in their deep,
       (Stand beside me!) roareth -- (help me!) nears to leap.
     M ayst Thou help me, Master! Thou art pure alone,
       Thou alone art sinless, one Christ on a throne.

     N ightly deeds I loved them, hated day's instead;
       Hence this soul-involving darkness on mine head.
     O Word, who constrainest things estranged and curst,
       If Thy hand can save me, that work were the first!
     P ensive o'er my sinning, counting all its ways,
       Terrors shake me, waiting adequate dismays.
     Q uenchless glories many, hast Thou -- many a rod --
       Thou, too, hast Thy measures.  Can I bear Thee, God?

     R end away my counting from my soul's decline,
       Show me of the portion of those saved of Thine!
     S low drops of my weeping to Thy mercy run:
       Let its rivers wash me, by that mercy won!
     T ell me what is worthy, in our dreary now,
       As the future glory? (madness!) what, as THOU?
     U nion, oh, vouchsafe me to Thy fold beneath,
       Lest the wolf across me gnash his gory teeth!

     V iew me, judge me gently! spare me, Master bland
       Brightly lift Thine eyelids, kindly stretch Thine hand!
     W inged and choral angels! 'twixt my spirit lone,
       And all deathly visions, interpose your own!
     Y ea, my Soul, remember death and woe inwrought --
       After-death affliction, wringing earth's to nought!
     Z one me, Lord, with graces!  Be foundations built
       Underneath me; save me! as Thou know'st and wilt!

[Translator's Note: The omission of our X (in any case too sullen a letter to be employed in the service of an acrostic) has permitted us to write linefor line with the Greek! - Elizabeth Browning]