Image of Zamikāʾel

First of all, the Paraclete, the Spirit of the Father and the Son, may heal the wound of my tongue as it was taught. Michael, noble, of noble lineage, of noble descent, that I may praise you with the sweet song of the Psalter. Grant wisdom to your servant, the servant. Hail, hail to the memory of your name, the zealous one, and to your hair, again, curled, short, which no one has seen. Michael, the second, to Michael, the teacher of Damo. The news of your goodness has amazed my mind, and for my mouth, I seek your perfection. Hail to your jaws, lofty of mouth and womb, and from the sun and moon, great of tooth and gum. Michael, Jesus, son of Abranyos, the teacher. Raise me to the mountain of prayer and to the height of the Cross, both of them, that I may say there, "My God, my God." Hail to your hands, bound in chains of purity, and to your girdle, the rank which is joined with them. Michael, the chosen one, beloved of the Lord. You are the servant of Christ, who has established his glory, and who is like Mark, whose monastery is Tormaq.

Salutation to the fashioning of your body in the garment of the skin of a wild beast, and salutation to your tomb. Salutation to the sanctuary of George within the enclosure. Abundant in virtue is Michael, and more fragrant than the bloom of the mandrake. Your blessing before the throne of the brother of the world shall bow down, as it makes the wild beasts of my desert to lie down. When Michael’s dwelling was finished, he being present in his house, while he was hungry and thirsty, the messengers of Abrānyos then came to turn him away. They said among themselves, “To the land of his upbringing, to the enclosure of his sanctuary for George, this is his burial place.” Blessed be the Lord, who from the sleep of sin roused me. Read the homily of your image; grant me understanding. Michael’s likeness is for Gabra Krǝstos, my refuge. The news of your nobility to tell, I am weary, and your virtues to proclaim, I am abundant. Accept my prayers like a single arrow. Where he placed me, read the Spirit of the Father and the Son. Michael the righteous, for Abrānyos the counsel of his clan. Without this my prayers and my gifts are one, and for my gift, the limit of the arrow is its notch.

Salutation to you: the sweet news of your memory is heard in all the world, and your deeds are accomplished by the mouth of all. Michael, our manna, our myrrh. Salutation to you: the nature of Michael, whose garment is not to be found; a measure of each when he is woven; and all my bones, if they are shattered, from the finding of your love within it.