You drank the living waters in the Vertograd of God Matera, the Kiev-Pecherste and Mount Athos monasteries, and here a storehouse of Philokalia appeared, O Reverend Paisius, and Having given those who thirst for the truth of God plenty to drink, having inflamed them with love for the Lord and raised them to the zeal of the angelic life, pray to Christ the God of sins to grant those who honor love your memory.
Glory: in sedalen, the voice is the same:
One summer you left your cell, Father Paisius, you surveyed the village of your disciples, riding, surveying and naming each of their cells to the setting sun, and with You prayed with tears, handing them over to God and saying: Lord, protect this small flock and save it from the wolves that destroy it.
And now: Theotokos. The voice is the same.
Like the Throne of Kings and the shining lamp of the fire of the Divine leading Thee, the Pure Virgin, and the door of Her, the Lord into the world below and the whole human race deified, even in purple baptism blessed with grace, that we may be sons of light. Moreover, the All-Singing One, the crown of the thousand-year blessing of God, who is like us, pray for our souls to be saved.