April 2012

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Friday, April 13th, 2012 11:05 am
Hymn 3 is waaaay longer than the others.
You may want to read them in reverse order.


Hymn 1: Arise My Soul

Sound, sweet-voiced guitar, to the Teian beat, in the Lesbian mode;
sing to me a Dorian ode in more traditional riffs,
not one for seducing women or men;
instead, a pure and sacred work of divine wisdom
prompts me to strum the strings of my guitar
to a divine refrain, and tells me to flee
from the sweet limerence of earthly loves.

What is strength and what beauty, what is money or fame,
and what is political power, compared with meditations upon God?

Let one person be good at driving, another in shooting;
let another get rich.

Another's glory is her fabulous hair.
Let her be well-acclaimed for her good looks,
by both men and women in their talk;
but I have the luck to lead a life no one mentions,
a life unconcerned with what others worry about,
but one that is inwardly distracted by God.

May wisdom be ever with me,
wisdom the good guide of young and of old,
wisdom the prudent company of wealth,
who cheerfully bears poverty,
and never minds the bitter cares of life.

May I have only what I need
to make me independent from others’ charity,
enough that hunger doesn’t bend my soul to misery.

Listen now to the cricket’s song as she drinks the morning dew.

See how my guitar plays itself, how some angelic voice sweeps
about and around me. What melody will this divine labor bear?

God, the self-created Beginning, Guardian and Parent of existence,
born without birth, beyond and above externality,
endless in glory, God sits firmly,
of unities the pure unity, and the first atomic atom.

Joining the elements of every molecule
brings into existence generous birth-giving.
From out of these the monad itself,
springing through a first-unformed form,
diffused in unspeakable ways,
holds the power of three points.

But the single source is ringed with beautiful valences,
emitted from the core and recirculating to the center.

Please, daring guitar, pause!
Don’t reveal the mysteries to just anyone,
these mysteries which are celebrated without initiations;
go tell about the here and now,
and leave silent the spaces in between.

And now mind is busy with thought-worlds,
for out of its holy origin, the human spirit
has been divided beyond division.

But the kernel Soul remains, in ever-changing form,
linked to every point in space, controlling each separating plane.

But this one whole universal mind,
this whole diffused into the whole,
keeps the time of every oscillation
and always guards this very whole, parted into diverse forms.

The one travels stars, another turns in spirit dance,
yet another has found an earthly form by a stretching linkage,
and is severed from its source. It has drunk dark oblivion,
and wonders, in its blind tormenting cares, at the joyless earth.

Yet a God observing mortality
is within even this one, there is still a light
in the veiled pupils of its eyes,
there is some courage even in those who have pulled apart so far,
that calls them closer, fleeing the stormy waves of mortal life,
along the sacred paths that lead to their Ancestral home.

Happy is she who shuns the hungry cry of cravings,
and runs, with light and joyful steps, to God.

Happy is he who, after his time is up,
after troubles, after bitter earthly cares, enters the thoughtful Way
and beholds the deep profound that shines with divine light.

It is hard work to take flight
with the whole wings of those loves
that lift out to the universal Heart.

Just strengthen your resolve by exercise, like imagining paradise,
and the Mother will appear nearby and hold out Her Hands to you.

For some ray of light will show your path, and will unfold to you
the field of mind, the beginning of beauty.

Arise, my soul, drink from the eternal fountain of God’s love.

Arise in worship of the Creator, and don’t delay.
And leave to the earth the things of the earth,
and in unison with the Mother
you may move in harmony with God, God-ified.



Hymn 2: Prayer at Dawn

Again light shines, again dawn,
again day, after the darkness that glooms the night.

Again pray to God, O my heart, in morning-song,
who has given dawn her light, who has given night his stars
the dancing company that encircles the universe.

Chaos envelops the expanse of ethereal matter,
beyond the glory of nuclear combustion,
where the queenly rotation of the moon divides her final phase.

Above the eight rotations of star-borne worlds
a starless stream keeps going
hidden within its bosom, material layers in contrary currents,
and circles about the great Mind,
who gathers under Her wings her universal brood.

A blessed silence hides what’s beyond,
an indivisible division of the perceptive and the perceived.
One is the spring, one the source.

Look! A triple form manifests,
for where the deepness of the Father is,
there is the shining Son, like the Heart’s offspring.
Wisdom, the Creator of the universe
and the unified flame of the Holy Spirit,
has shone forth.

One spring, one source, produced an abundance of good things,
an offspring surpassing existence, glowing with creative desire
and the wondrous flames of holy ones burn brightly.

So, now there’s a choir of immortals in the universe,
who mentally sing songs praising God,
both beginningless and first-conceived form.

Near their good Creator, now an ageless angel army
watches Mind and gets the principle of beauty,
and again, looking towards the spheres,
perceives the deep places of the universe,
following the ethereal world all the way
to the extreme confines of matter,
where nature, brooding, gives birth
to a horde of turbulent and sneaky demons.

There a hero; there a spirit sown as seed through the lands,
has filled earthly destinies with life, with cunningly devised forms.

All things hang on Your Will,
and You are the root of things present, past, future and within.

You are Father and Mother; You are Male and Female,
You are Voice and Silence, nature’s fruitful Nature.

All praise you, O Ruler, wherever we can, we shout
Age of ages, Root of the universe.

All hail to You, Centre of existing things,
Monad of numbers immortal, the angels that did not pre-exist you.

Rejoice! Rejoice! Joy is found with God!

Listen carefully to my choirs’ hymns.
Send the light of wisdom, and the glorious plenty of a calm life,
send its shining grace. Drive poverty from our midst,
and the earthly disaster of wealth.

Drive away disease and impersonal lust from my life,
and soul-gnawing cares, so that my earthly fate
not weigh down the wings of my soul, but lifting a free wingtip,
may I dance in the untold raptures of Your offspring.



Hymn 3: To the Father and Son

Awake my soul; give yourself to sacred songs,
lay to rest the cravings that are born of attachment.

Strengthen your mighty mental impulses.
We are weaving a crown for the Ruler of gods,
a bloodless offering, a poetic libation.

I call to You in song, in ocean, over islands, on mainlands,
in cities and on the craggy mountains,
wherever I rest both feet on the wide-spread steppe,
You, blessed Creator of a universe.

Night brings me, Your singer, to You, O Ruler
and I lift up hymns to You, of the day-time,
of the morning, of the evening.

Your witnesses are the glittering stars,
the cycles of the moon, and the mighty witness,
the sun, who presides over the pure stars,
the holy guardian of pure spirits.

Lifting up my wing that turns away from deep chaos,
I have arisen and come to Your house, Your embrace, rejoicing.

And now even into the sacred shrine
of the Holy Sacrifice, I have come as a seeker.
Now as a seeker I come to the crests of famous mountains,
and the Libyan desert’s great ravine,
the southern border, which no godless blast of wind sullies,
nor sees the footprint of anyone worried with dreams.

There, purified of evil thoughts, released from craving,
ceasing to grieve, to rage or to hide,
may my soul casting off all these things that cause death,
render the hymn that is worthy of You
with a pure tongue and a sanctified mind.

Let earth and atmosphere be at peace.
Let the sea be still, let the air be still.
Calm, gusts of swift winds; calm, tides of angry waves,
mouths of rivers, flow of springs.
Let silence hold the caverns of the universe,
while these sacred hymns are offered up.

Let the winding curl of serpents sink underground,
also that winged serpent, the demonic idol,
who clouds the soul, rejoicing in lies
and urging her litter of puppies
to drown my petitions with their cries.

O God, O Blessed One, keep away from my soul these
soul-eating dogs, from my prayer, from my life, from my works.

May our heart’s sacred prayers be carefully carried
to You by holy messengers.

Now I am carried back to the beginning of sacred songs.
Already the oracle echoes in my mind.
Have mercy on me, Holy God,
if I’ve overstepped what is called for, what is needed,
to reach toward You.

What eye is so wise or bold
that it doesn’t blink when pierced by Your laser?

Not even gods can stare down Your glowing glare.
but Mind, descended from Your height,
may touch something near You,
seeking to reach the unreachable, to look upon the light that glitters
in Your tireless depth; and so giving up unreachable means,
it looks strongly at the image that first appeared.

There picking flowers of light as songs to You,
may it hold back the blast of stormy winds
and give Your own back to You.
For what is there, O Ruler, that isn’t Yours?
Parental parent, self-generating,
Orphan Ancestor, self-descending,
One before One, Seed of existence,
Center of everything,
Eternal, unsubstantial Mind?

World-roof, You: Light
visible everywhere, of first things,
wise Certainty and wisdom's Fountain,
Mind hidden by Your own bright rays,
Eye of Yourself, Control of the thunderbolt,
Parent of time, Immortal higher than the gods,
higher than minds which You turn this way and that.

You are the mind's source of intelligence,
the Creator of divine beings,
Shaper of the spirit, Nourisher of the soul,
Fountain of fountains, Origin of origins, Root of roots.
You are the Unity of unities, Number of numbers,
at once Single and Number, Mind and Intellect,
both the knowable and what precedes it,
One and All, and the One of All, and the One before All,
that is the seed of all things, the root and the branch,
and nature in each person, the female gender and the male.

The mind initiated in the mysteries blathers,
moving in harmony around Your terrible depth.

You produce, You are produced,
You are the shining Light, You are illuminated;
You are the revelation, You who are hidden in your own rays,
The One, the All, Self-contained and dispersed through all things.

You were poured out, unspeakable Parent,
that you might produce a child, that is, famous Wisdom,
Creator of the world, but so spreading out,
You remain, having delivered, indivisibly divided.

I sing to You, Unity, I sing to You, Trinity;
You are One as Three, are Three as One;
the thought remains: indivisibly divided.

You were poured out on the Son in Your wisdom’s Choice,
and that Choice Itself was then born,
a nature unspeakable, the existence pre-existing material.

It violates divine law to say that a second one has come from You,
it violates divine law to say that a third has come from the first.
O holy Birth, O unspeakable generation;
You are the natural distinction of production and product.

O worship the hidden structure of thoughts,
but there is some middle thing that can’t be shared.
Unspeakable Offspring of an Unspeakable Parent,
the labor-pains were through You,
and through the labor-pains You did appear Yourself,
showing Yourself together with the Parent by the Parent’s Choice.

By the Choice of Father You, His Choice,
are always Yourself aside from the Father.
Even unbounded Time can’t tell the inevitable procreation,
nor oldest time understand the tedious birth.
He was revealed with the Father,
He who had been for all eternity One who was to come into being.

Who will dare speak regarding unspeakable things?
Blind mortals are brazenly godless with tricky words
but You Give Light, the light of Mind,
which raises holy human minds away from crooked lies,
so they don’t sink in dark material gloom.

It is an act of purity to praise You, Universal Mother,
Father of the ages, Creator of the gods.

The knowledgeable praise You, O Ruler,
and the world’s governors, with glittering eyes,
the starry minds, sing Your praises, Holy One
as the glorious masses move rhythmically among them.

The whole holy community sings to You,
they who around the world, who in the world,
within and without the zones
guide the fates of the cosmos in their wisdom,
they are protectors, side by side with the famous pilots
the angelic chain keeps pouring out.

And the admired community of heroes,
that works via human deeds, the hands of the dead,
hidden pathways, (sing praises).
And the soul both upright and bent down to the dark-gleaming
corners of the earth (sing praises).

Holy Nature praises You loudly, and her offspring,
who You, Holy One, encourages with pleasant breezes
from Your streams outpouring;
for You, Leader of pure universes, are Nature’s nature.
You cherish Nature, birth of mortals, the image of the eternal Unity,
so that even the farthest fallen mortal gets the option of eternal life.

For it was never the divine law that the universe’s lowest
should compete against the highest.
The consequences for the diversity of real existences will never go away,
but all find their happiness, one from another and each through each.

An eternal circle of beings that die, treasured by Your breath,
makes up choirs to You throughout everything:
so does maternal Nature, colorfully and skillfully, adorn them.

And out of living things of varied voices
she creates one harmony in similar sound.
All things bring ageless praise to You,
even the dawn and the night,
lightning, snow, sky, atmosphere, soil’s roots, water
air, all bodies, all spirits, seeds, fruits, trees and grasses, roots, herbs,
animals and birds, and schools of swimming fish.

See now in Your Libya, in Your respected diaconate,
a feeble and exhausted soul, trying to pray, but getting distracted.
But Your Eye, O God, pierces through,
and now my heart, made fruitful with hymns to You,
has exited my mind with fire-bursts.
Please, O Ruler, kindle the uplifting beams,
and grant, God, that, fleeing the body,
(the soul) may never again descend to an earthly doom.

But as long as I remain in the chains of a life
that interacts with the material world
may a gentle destiny, O Blessed One, nourish me.
May it not blow against me,
consuming my life with grim mental concerns,
so that I have no time for the things of God,
nor get involved in such concerns;
instead, fleeing from these, by Your gifts,
may I weave You this garland from the sacred meadows.

I bring You this praise, Leader of pure worlds,
and to Your wise Son, whom You have sent forth from Your holy arms
together with Wisdom herself. Springing for from You,
He remains within You, that He may explore everything that breathes air,
that She may order the depths of ancient ages,
and direct the feet of a rugged world,
even unto the lowest earthly fate;
light shining in pious hearts,
that He may release living mortals from their work, from their concerns,
She the Accomplisher of good deeds, who chases away distress.
And why is it hard to believe that the Maker of the universe
keeps evil fates from His own works?

I come, O Ruler of the great universe, to fulfill a vow I made to You in Thrace,
where I lived for three years near the capitol.
And worked, and endured, and suffered enough for many tears,
bearing my homeland on my shoulders.

The sweat of my limbs watered the earth as I struggled every day
and my bed was wet with my falling tears from my eyelids weeping
night after night.

And as many churches as were built for Your Holy ceremonies, O Ruler,
I visited. There, bowed down, a seeker, I prayed, watering the ground
with the dew of my eyelids, that I not find my journey fruitless.

I prayed to gods that work, who keep fruitful plain of Thrace,
and those who on the other side rule the Chalcedonian pastures,
whom You, O Ruler, has crowned with Your announcing beams,
to be Your sacred ministers.

The holy ones have indeed taken my prayers to them,
they have helped my work.
My life was not pleasant then, because my homeland was so tormented;
but You, O Ruler, has lifted it from out its sorrows.

O Ruler of the universe, You, the Ageless,
sustained the force of my limbs,
when my soul was already failing and my parts already breaking up.
You breathed strength into my sorry soul;
You found me a sweet ending to my work, O Ruler, and one I wanted
giving my efforts a rest from hard work.

Please, O Blessed One, preserve all these gains for the Libyans
for a very long time, so that we remember Your great goodness,
and for the soul that has suffered terrible things.
And give Your seeker a life free from harm,
deliver me from suffering, deliver me from disease,
deliver me from deadly concerns;
give Your servant a life of the intellect.
Don’t award me earthly wealth, O Ruler,
that may take away my time from divine things,
nor let grim poverty attack my house
and draw the meditations of my heart down to despair,
for both these weigh down the soul to the earth,
and both bring forgetfulness of mind, whenever,
O Holy One, You withhold Your help.

O God, Fountain of pure wisdom, kindle in my mind a flame of intellect
out of Your arms, illuminate our heart
out of Your strength with a gleam of wisdom.
Give this as a symbol of the sacred way to You, Your own signature.
Chase from my life and from my prayer the deadly material demons,
preserve my body safe and sound from the approach of vengeful violence,
and guard my spirit safely pure, O Ruler.

Truly I already carry on me the murky stain of Sin,
and I am held fast by cravings, by earthly chains.
But You are my liberator, You my purifier.
Release me from evils, from illness, from restraints.
I carry in Your seed in me, the spark of elevated Mind,
but a spark that’s fallen down to the depths of matter.

But You put soul in the cosmos,
and, through soul, mind in the body, O Ruler.
Take pity on your servant-girl, O Holy One.
I moved away from You to serve my delusions,
instead of living as an employee, I became a slave.
Sin uncannily contained me.

But, there is still some strength in that eyeball hidden inside me,
it has not yet extinguished all its might.

But a great wave has broken over me, blinding the soul that sees God.
Pity, O God, Your seeking servant-girl,
whom craving for destroying sin often strangles,
when she tries to approach you by mental paths.

Please, O Ruler, kindle the lights that lead inwards,
please light the shine and the beacon
by increasing the scanty seed in the best part of my mind.
Place me, O God, in the strength of the life-bringing life,
where craving does not show her hand, nor instincts
of choiceless Necessity that make me cringe.

May lying company leave Your servant alone!
Put fire between me, O God, and the confusion of lies.
O Creator, make Your agent spread his wings of Mind.
Now at last let the seeking soul bear the Father’s signature.
a terror to hostile demons, who come out of hidden places,
to inspire godless urges on mortals;
and let this be a sign to Your pure agents,
who throughout the impressive universe’s depths,
are keyholders to the glowing routes,
that they should open wide the gates of light to me,
that although I’m still earthbound, I may not be humble.

And, while I’m here, give me, from the works written in fire,
evident produce, reliable words,
and anything that encourages souls toward immortality.

I repent of an instinctual life.
No more plagues of godless mortals, rulers of cities!
No more saccharine fates of doom and artless artiface,
which keep the deceived soul tied in bondage to instinct,
the soul who timidly drank, not knowing what was good for it
until it got a serving of envy.

Corrupt material has two parts, and whoever
reaches out his hand to the table to touch the sweet foods,
will truly regret the bitter result when the hostile weights
drag him down with them.

Truly this law of earthly necessity pours out a life
to mortals from two sources,
and one is unmixed and is pure good, a god or things divine.
I have been drunk with the sweet cup,
I have touched the lands of evil things,
I have fallen into the snare,
I have known the fate of Epimetheus.

So I hate unreliable laws; and I hurry to my Father's carefree meadow.
There I spread my wings in flight from the twin material gifts.

See me, You who gives the mind’s life.
See Your seeker, an earthly soul,
mentally striving toward better things,
and please kindle, O Ruler, the lights that lead,
giving me nimble wings.

Crafty Nature cripples souls by the chains of the twin cravings –
loosen them. Cut the ties.
May I escape the body’s fate and spring swiftly to Your company,
to Your arms, where my soul finds its source.

I came to earth as a drop from the sky.
Restore me to the well I was drawn from,
a wanderer who comes and goes.

May I mingle with ancestral light. And, cared for by You, God,
may I lift up the sacred mental songs with the holy choir.

May, O God, that mixed with the light, I don’t sink again into a false fate,
but as long as I’m contained in a material life, may pleasant luck,
O Holy One, nurture me!



Hymn 4: To the Ultimate Person

I sing to You, when holy day begins, to You as it lengthens,
to You at noon, to You as it shortens, and when wonderful night comes;
to You, Creator, soul-Healer, limb-Healer, wisdom-Giver, sickness-Remover,
who gives souls a life free from trouble,
a life that earthly care, mother of griefs,
mother of sufferings, does not trample underfoot.

May my life stay free of these,
so that I may tell of the hidden root of all things in song,
and not be turned away from God by delusions that lead off.

I sing to You, Holy One, Ruler of the universe, and let urges be silent.

Let everything in the universe keep sacred silence,
while hymns and prayers are addressed to You,
for they are Your works, O God.

Let the whistling winds be still, the rustling of trees, the song of birds;
let space be at peace, let air be at peace, listening to the tune,
and let the gushing waters be quiet now throughout the earth.

Let the demons now flee from my pure prayer,
they who, delighting in the realm of darkness and haunting the tombs,
impede holy songs, but the good and happy servants
of the all-understanding Creator,
as many as occupy the depths and heights of the universe,
let those hear harmlessly God’s hymns,
and harmlessly let them bear my prayers on high.

Unity of unities, Parent of parents, the Good of good things,
Star of stars, Universe of universes, Idea of ideas,
profound Beauty, hidden Seed, Father of ages,
Mother of unspeakable words of Mind, emits a divine breath ever distilling,
floating over the bodily masses, that now kindles a second universe.

I sing to You, Holy One, with my voice, and I sing to You also with silence,
because You hear not only the voice, but also the mind’s silence.

And I sing to the Child, the First-born, the First-appearing,
Most glorious Offspring of the unspeakable Father,
I praise You, Holy One, together with the great Father,
and the labor of the Father over You,
that generation’s Counsel, the middle Beginning,
the Holy Spirit, Center of the Creator, Center also of the Son,
Mother, Sister, and Daughter to Yourself, birthing the secret Root.

So that the Father might be poured out upon the Son,
that same outpouring found a shoot, and stood in the middle,
God, descended from God, in a Son who was God,
and in the renowned outpouring of an immortal Father,
the Son, found a shoot.

You are Unity, also Trinity, but still Unity, and You are truly a Trinity.

And the intellectual split keeps what is separated still unsplit.
but the Son, though he has leaped out, remains with the Father
and yet conducts, outside, the Father's business,
bringing down to the worlds the blessing of life,
where the Word Himself has it from.

I praise this Word, in unison with the great Father.
The Mind of the unspeakable Father births You,
and You, so conceived, are the Creator’s Word,
first to leap out from the primal Root,
and the Root of everything that came after Your famous birth.

And unspeakable Unity, the Seed of all things,
has produced You, the Seed of all things;
for You are in all things,
and through You the highest, the middle, and the lowest nature,
enjoy the good gifts of generous life from God the Father.

An ageless sphere rolls its untroubled route for You.
Under Your direction the seven planets dance in harmony
in the powerful revolutions of the great roof,
and the many lights of the universe decorate
the one dome of the sky by Your Choice, most famous Child;
for You, running around the heavenly deep,
hold together the ages’ route unbroken,
and under your sacred regulations, Holy One,
in the hollows of unmeasureable space, the tribe of gleaming stars dwells.

You assign their tasks in the heavens and the air,
on the earth and in the world below, and You give them their life.

You are the Mind’s Master, and the gods’ Appointer,
also those mortals who have drunk showers of Mind's fate.

You are the Soul-Giver, to those whose life depends on the soul,
and are naturally tireless.

A blind soul-child hangs from Your chain,
and the breathless receive from Your arms a unifying bond,
carried by Your power from the unspeakable Fatherly Arms, the hidden unity,
where the stream of life flows from, and is carried away
by Your power all the way to earth, through trackless worlds of mind.

Therefore the visible cosmos, the mental world’s shape,
receives that flowing stream of blessings. This (visible cosmos) had a second sun,
the ancestor with a later shining light’s shining eyes,
the guardian of matter which lives and dies,
a Son who is the perceptible impression of Mind,
the carrier of all good things that are born in the universe,
born through your choice, greatest Child,
Father unknowable, Father unspeakable,
Mentally Unknowable, verbally Unspeakable.

You are the minds’ Mind, the souls’ Soul, the natural Nature.
Look, I bow before You as a servant.
I fall down to the ground, a blind seeker;
but please, light-Giver, Mind-light, have mercy, on a seeking soul;
repel disease, repel cares that gnaw the soul,
and repel the shameless hell-dog, the urge-demon,
from my soul, from my prayer, from my life, from my deeds.

Let the demon remain outside my body, my spirit, and all that is mine.
Let him flee, let him leave me, the material demon, suffering’s power,
who builds his fortress wall against the escape route,
who violates God-seeking hopes, and give me a companion, O Ruler,
a partner, a holy messenger of holy power,
a messenger of prayer illuminated by the divine light,
a friend, a dispenser of noble gifts,
a soul-guard, a lifeguard, a guard over prayers, a guard over deeds,
and one to save the body cleansed of disease,
to save the spirit cleansed of shame.

And bring forgetfulness of its cravings to my soul,
that the soul's winged flight may also enrich
the earth-nourished life with songs of You,
so that I also may fulfill the life that must come
after the chains that weigh us down to the earth,
a life purified of urges, even near to you and your Arms,
where the fountain of the soul comes from.

And please extend Your Hand to me, and call, Holy One,
please lift toward You a seeking soul from its mortal state.




Hymn 5: A Song of Praise

Let us sing to the Bride’ Son,
the unwedded Bride joined with humanity.
The Father’s unspeakable plans produced the birth of Christ.
The Bride’s sacred labor revealed the Man’s form,
who came bringing a fountain of light to mortals;
and this unspeakable Child knows the Root of the ages.

You are the Light from the Fountain-head,
the ray that has shone along with the Father,
that, having broken through murky matter,
shines in pious souls.

You are the universe’s Founder, the sphere-Fashioner of famous stars,
the Founder of the earths, and You Yourself are humanity’s Savior.

The Sun travels for You, the unquenchable source of morning,
The horned moon scatters night’s shadows for You.
Fruits fruit and flocks feed for You.

Sending out a light-giving splendor from Your unspeakable source,
You fill the networked roots of the universe with food.
Light and mind and soul have bloomed out of Your depths.
Have mercy on Your daughter imprisoned in mortal limbs
and fate’s material limits.

Keep my limbs’ strength safe from disease’s damage.
May my words be convincing and my deeds glorious,
so that they become legendary in Cyrene and Sparta;
and may my soul, unbeaten by grief, draw a gentle nourishing light to itself,
straining a pair of eyes toward Your Light, so that escaping from urges
I may hurry on the unchanging paths, a runaway from earth’s sufferings,
to mingle with the soul’s Fountain-head.

Grant me a holy life as I praise Your Root,
the greatest glory of the Father, and the Spirit that shares authority halfway
between the Root and the Branch, and in singing the might of the Father,
with songs to You, I sing the glorious labor of my soul to sleep.

Praise! Son-Source, Father-Form, Son-Throne, Father-Signature!
Praise! Son-Strength, Father-Beauty, pure Breath, Son-and-Father’s Center!
Please send me, along with the Father,
the mistress of divine gifts, to water the wings of my soul.



Hymn 6: To Christ

I will crown with wise hymn-flowers,
(together with the Holy auto-originated spring
that exceeds the unspeakable unities)
God, the glorious Son of the eternal God,
One Child that came from the Father,
Whom the indescribable birth of the Fatherly Choice
has revealed. A Son out of His unknowable Arms,
the birth-pain which has displayed the fruits of the Father's generation,
and, in bringing them to light, Mind has been revealed, fixed in the middle.

So the wisdom of the Father's Mind, the splendor of His beauty,
remains in the Fountain, poured out.

To You, the Product, the Father has granted to produce.
You are the hidden Seed of the Father;
for the Father gave You to universes as their beginning,
that forms might be brought down to material bodies
from the entities of Mind.

You guide the wise roof of heaven,
and always lead to their pasture the flock of stars.
You rule, O King, the angelic choir
and the company of the spirits,
and You dance around mortal nature.

You return to its fountain-head what was already been bestowed,
freeing mortals from the necessity of death.

Look kindly on to these song-flowers to You,
and grant calm life to a poet of hymns.

Calm the changing winds,
dry up the harmful waves of impulses.

Keep disease far from my mind and body.
Calm the fatal onslaught of cavings,
keep off of me the dooms of both poverty and wealth,
give fame and glory to my deeds,
spread abroad my good reputation among everyone,
adorn me with the prettiest flowers of gently-worded persuasion,
so my mind may calmly gather leisure,
and so I may not groan under earthly concerns,
but from Your high routes through wisdom’s birth-canal
may I flood my mind.



Hymn 7: Christmas

I was the first to find the measure established in new harmonies
to strum the strings of the guitar in Your praise,
Holy Immortal One, famous Child of the Virgin, Jesus of Solyma.
O Ruler, look kindly on and accept my tune in holy melody.

We will sing of the undying God, the great Son of God,
the world-creating Son of the Father, Who has given birth to time,
everything’s mingled nature, boundless wisdom,
a God to heavenly beings, a curse to those of the underworld.

When You emerged on the earth,
out of a mortal womb, the clever art of the Magus was helpless,
and he wondered from the rising star, what manner of baby had been born,
who might be this hidden God: God, or dark ghost or ruler.

Come, bring gifts, offerings of myrrh, presents of gold,
fine perfume of frankincense.
You are God – receive the incense;
I bring gold to my Ruler, myrrh is appropriate for His grave.

You have purified the land, the sea-waves, and the demon-paths,
the swift outflow of air, and the recesses of the internal regions.
You were sent, being God, to Hades, to help the dead.
O Ruler, look kindly on and accept my tune in holy melody.



Hymn 8: To Christ, Requesting a Blessed Life

In a somewhat Dorian cadence,
I will lift up a clear song on my spruce-top guitar,
in Your honor, Holy Immortal,
Famous Child of the Virgin;
and please, O Ruler, save my harmless life,
granting me night and day alike free from grief..

Make Your light shine in my heart
from out of Your source of Mind.

In my youth, give me the strength of sound body and make my actions famous,
bring me a brilliant year even in the joy of old age,
growing not only in wisdom, but also in health.

And please keep my brother, whom You, O Immortal One,
already brought back in his youth, when he was
walking through the gates of a tomb.
Then You ended my concern, my sorrow,
my tears, and the burning fire of my heart.
You even made a dead body alive, O God,
for Your seeker’s sake.

Save my sister, and a couple children.

The households of Hesychius’ sons please hold in your Hand,
and my sexual partner, O Ruler,
please keep from illness and harm,
united to me, of one mind with me.
Preserve my wife in ignorance of sneaky company.
May she maintain a holy bed,
unsullied, pious, inaccessible to unlawful desires.

Please take my soul away from evils and from pitiful agony,
freed from the chains of mortal life;
and may I raise hymns with the choirs of the holy,
in honor of Your Father, and to Your supreme power,
O Blessed One, I will chant my hymns again,
I will sing a song to You again, and again, maybe,
I will tune this pure guitar to You.



Hymn 9: Pascha

Most beloved famous Child of the Daughter of Zion,
I sing to you, Holy One.

You have expelled the ground-serpent,
that source of deceit, from the garden of God,
the same serpent who insistently offered that fruit,
feeder of troublous destiny, to the first youth.

I sing to you, Admirable Father, who wears the crown,
Son of the Daughter of Zion.

You condescended to the earth, day-tripper,
bearing a mortal body, and did go down beneath to Hell,
where death reigned over nations of thousands of souls.
And then very old Hades shivered at You,
and his man-eating dog drew back from the door;
and You, delivering choirs of righteous souls from their pain,
raised, with wholesome company, hymns to the Father.

I sing to You, Admirable Father who wears the crown,
Son of the Daughter of Zion.

The numerous kinds of demons throughout the air trembled
at Your ascent, O Ruler. The sweet choir of the perfect stars
was seized with awe; and space laughing, wise father of harmony,
harmonized a hymn of victory to Your strength on the six-stringed guitar.

Dawn’s announcer smiled, day’s messenger,
and golden Hesperus, the star of Cytherea.
The moon filling with a stream of fire its horned light,
led the way, the shepherd of the gods of night.

Titan spread out his far-flaming hair under the unspeakable way,
and recognized the Child of God, Mind,
the Inventor of all that is best, and the origin of his own flame.

But You, in winged flight, leapt over the black of the blue sky,
and did take Your place among the intact spheres of the Mind,
where the source of good things is, the heaven that is kept secret,
where there is neither deep-flowing time that drags
with untiring foot earth’s children,
nor the shameless fates of craving’s surging depths,
but an age born of the distant past, though ageless itself,
old and still always young,
to the gods the guardian of their eternal home.



Hymn 10: To Christ

O Christ, Son of God who rules above,
remember Your servant, fated to be a sinner,
who writes these words, and grant my release
from cravings that bring death,
which are implanted in me, a dirty soul.

Grant me, O Savior Jesus, to see Your divine light,
that appearing there I may sing a song
to the Healer of souls, the Healer of bodies,
together with the mighty Father
and the Holy Spirit.


tr. Fitzgerald ed. myself