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Hymns and Homilies

St Ephrem the Syrian, tr. Burgess, 1853

7. Hymn 7: On the Death of a Presbyter

My brethren and beloved,
By God who hath separated me from you
I pray, that when your choirs assemble,
In holy service, ye will remember me.
And let your prayer come
And lighten the dust from my eyes,
That I may stand up and give thanks
To the raiser of the dead.

Even in Hades will arise
The Sun of Righteousness,
Dispersing the darkness of death
And bringing me out of it;
And those who sleep will be aroused
From their sepulchres as from repose,
And will offer praise at the rising day,
Which gladdens them with its beams.

Alas! for the slothful,
Who like me have been unprofitable!
In that day He who hired them
Will pay them their due;
And every one will receive righteously
What his labour hath gained.
Regard favourably my request
As that of the thief upon the cross!

I have entered upon the trodden pathway
That I may go to the habitation of the living,
To the place where the upright,
Receive the reward of their toils;
Where wages are appointed for thee,
Even the just recompense of thy anxieties.
There, beneath the wings
Of thy prayer may we find shelter!

In the region of felicity
The righteous dwell as thou dost;
Where there is nothing to fear,
No cause for dread or trepidation.
Where sorrows are far away,
And afflictions and sighs.
There, O Son of the Kingdom,
Count me worthy to see Thy face!

The wings of righteous deeds
I have not been preparing from my youth;
Those light pinions
I have not furnished to myself.
And what shall I do, who must pass over
The sea of burning flame?
How shall I be able
To soar high above it?

The wings of supplication
Which are swifter than air,
And the pinions of angels
Of whom thou hast been a companion—
They shall conduct thee
To the confines of the firmament,
Where there cannot approach
A breath of the burning flame!