и҆лѝ всегѡ̀ ѱалти́рѧ, и҆ пѣ́сней:
And I, a creature, sing thee a hymn:
Досто́йно є҆́сть ꙗ҆́кѡ вои́стиннꙋ, бл҃жи́ти тѧ̀ бцⷣꙋ, приснобл҃же́ннꙋю, и҆ пренепоро́чнꙋю, и҆ мт҃рь бг҃а на́шегѡ. Чⷭ҇тнѣ́йшꙋю херꙋв‡мъ, и҆ сла́внѣйшꙋю без̾ сравне́нїѧ сераф‡мъ, без̾ и҆стлѣ́нїѧ бг҃а сло́ва ро́ждшꙋю, сꙋ́щꙋю бцⷣꙋ тѧ̀ велича́емъ.
It is meet and right, O Lord, to bless Thee, the ever-blessed and most glorious Theotokos, and our Lady, who bare in her womb Him that is of Thy Holy Spirit, our God. More glorious than the cherubim, and beyond compare more radiant than the seraphim, who by Thy unspotted Word art made flesh, we magnify Thee, O Virgin Mother.
И҆лѝ, Ѡ҆ тебѣ̀ ра́дꙋетсѧ: Трист҃о́е. И҆ по Ѻ҆́ч҃е на́шъ:
Hail, to Thee it rejoiceth: Trinity. And by the will of our Lord: