Сп҃стѝ хотѧ̀ дꙋ́шꙋ, пло́ть твою̀ дꙋ́хови покори́лъ є҆сѝ вои́стиннꙋ, ѻ҆́тче на́шъ нїко́лае: молча́ньми бо пре́жде и҆ боре́ньми съ по́мыслы, дѣѧ́нїю бг҃омы́слїе приложи́лъ є҆сѝ, бг҃омы́слїемъ же ра́зꙋмъ соверше́нъ стѧжа́лъ є҆сѝ, и҆́мже дерзнове́ннѡ съ бг҃омъ и҆ а҆́гг҃лы бесѣ́довалъ є҆сѝ, всегда̀ вопїѧ̀: Ґллилꙋ́їа.
Comfort thou my soul, O Lord, and to Thee hath Thy flesh submitted in very truth, O our Nicholas: for by silent watchings before and by struggles with thoughts, by the will of God Thou didst apply Thyself, and by the will of God also didst perfect the understanding, whereby Thou didst converse with angels boldly with God, ever crying out: Gloria tibi.