Бг҃отворѧ́щꙋю кро́вь ѹ҆жасни́сѧ, человѣ́че, зрѧ̀:
O Man, beholding the Blood of God Who doth Praise, dost marvel:
Ѻ҆́гнь бо є҆́сть недостѡ́йныѧ попалѧ́ѧй.
For fire is a thing unworthy of falling into the hands of the unrighteous.
Бжⷭ҇твенное тѣ́ло и҆ ѡ҆божа́етъ мѧ̀, и҆ пита́етъ:
The Body of Christ and Saviour sanctifieth me, and feedeth me.
Ѡ҆божа́етъ дꙋ́хъ, ќмъ же пита́етъ стра́ннѡ.
The Spirit praiseth Thee, and feedeth Thee strangely.