Оля Байгулова - стихира Страстной Пятницы - Znamenny chant of Passions

Today, O Word, the most pure Virgin beheld Thee hanging upon the Cross; and with a mother’s love she lamented, her heart bitterly wounded. She groaned in anguish from the depth of her soul, and in her grief she struck at her face and tore at her hair. And, beating her breast, she cried aloud: ‘Woe is me, O my divine Child! Woe is me, Thou Light of the world! Why dost Thou vanish from my sight, O Lamb of God?’ Upon which the hosts of bodiless powers seized with trembling, said: ‘O Lord beyond all understanding, glory be to Thee.’