Плачь Григория о себе самом

1. Alas, alas! what suffering! What have I done wrong? Or am I the only one who touches Your pure sacrifices without reverence? Are You, the Purifier, burning me with suffering, or reducing the arrogance of others, or are you exposing me in order to bring me into battle with the enemy? All this is distributed by You Yourself, my King – the Word. But I can hardly draw my last breath on earth; cried all the tears; One thing I have to do is cry. How long will I remain in the hands of the wicked? But you, Blessed One, raise me up; I may be thin, but I am still a priest; - Rise up so that no one is tempted by my misfortunes! My praise is lost; may bodily sorrows also disappear! Anastasia is lost to me; may sin also cease! Alas! Alas! my tears do not dry up, my heart grows numb in my chest. Hold back, O Tsar, this serious illness! Hold back the disease, I die. Is mercy really reserved for one, Thy servant, Gregory? I have been overwhelmed by many calamities and bodily sorrows. And You, Christ, have grace - You, Who overwhelm me with suffering. Or stop disasters and have mercy on Your servant; or give me the strength to endure everything with a strong spirit! 2. Christ, the light of men, a pillar of fire to the soul of Gregory, wandering through the desert of a woeful life, restrain the malicious Pharaoh and the shameless henchmen; deliver me from unsettled clay and from heavy Egypt, subduing my enemies with shameful executions, and grant me a smooth path! If the pursuing enemy overtakes me, cut the Red Sea for me so that I can cross over the hardened waters, hastening to the wonderful land, to my property, as You promised; stop the wide rivers, deflect the swift and groaning spear of the foreigners! If I ascend to the holy land; I will praise You with ceaseless songs. My King Christ, why have You entangled me with these nets of flesh? Why did I throw myself into life - into this cold and shady ditch, if, as I hear, I really am God and Your property? I have lost the strength of my limbs; I do not obey my knees; I was weakened by time, crushed by illness, exhausted by worries and friends who were not friendly towards me. But sins do not want to submit; but they press on me even harder, and exhausted, like a timid hare or a chamois, these dogs surround me, wanting to satisfy their hunger. Or stop the disasters and have mercy; or accept me to Yourself after long-term deeds, and put a measure of sorrows; or may the good cloud of oblivion cover my thoughts! 3. Woe is me! I fainted, O my Christ, Breath of men! What a fight I have with my wife—the flesh! How many storms it causes! How long life is, how long residence is! How many struggles both inside and outside, in which the beauty of God’s image can be damaged! What oak can withstand such violence of the winds? what kind of ship fights so many waves? I am overwhelmed by work and the confluence of things. It was not of my own volition that I took upon myself the care of my parents’ home. But when I entered it; found plundered. My friends left me exhausted and my illness exhausted me. Others are greeted with flowers; and I was greeted with stones. The people over whom the Spirit had placed me over were taken away from me. I left some children behind, separated from others, and others did not honor me. Truly, I am a pitiful father! Those who made sacrifices with me became more hostile to me than my enemies themselves: they did not respect the mysterious Meal, they did not respect (I’m not talking about anything else) the labors I had previously endured (and they were often used to respecting vicious ones); They do not think at all to suppress the rumor about the insults inflicted on me, but they seek one thing - my disgrace. 4. I suffered very many disasters, and what constitutes the height of disasters, I suffered from whom I least thought to endure. However, I did not tolerate anything that those who did me harm would tolerate. My suffering is passing, and as far as I know, their evil deeds have been written down in iron books by Justice. 5. Friends, fellow citizens, enemies, enemies, bosses! I have suffered many hard blows from you. I know you will say: no. But it is written in books; don't hide from me. 6. Let not the vicious one be consoled by my sufferings and sorrows, and let not the good one disturb the weak mind! Who, without illness, made the good better? And the sufferer knows that it is either medicine for the defiled, or struggle and glory for the purified. To another, O King, give glory without labor; but for me it is a desire to gain You through suffering and sorrow. You might be interested in: