The noble Joseph,
when he had taken down Thy most pure body from the Tree,
wrapped it in fine linen and anointed it with spices,
and placed it in a new tomb.
Then we venerate the Shroud as we sing:
O come, let us bless the ever-memorable Joseph, who came by night unto Pilate, and begged the Life of all men:
Give me this stranger, who hath not where to lay his head;
Give me this stranger, whom the crafty disciple hath betrayed unto death;
Give me this stranger, whose Mother, when she beheld him hanging on the Cross, cried with weeping, and with maternal feeling exclaimed:
Woe is me, woe is me, my child ! Woe is me, my Light, and the beloved of my bosom !
That which was foretold in the church by Simeon to-day hath come to pass!
A weapon shall pierce thy heart, but into the joy of the Resurrection shall thy lament be changed.
We worship thy sufferings, O Christ; we worship thy sufferings, O Christ; we worship thy sufferings, O Christ, and thy holy Resurrection.