Image of the Twenty-Four Heavenly Priests

Salutation to the memory of your name, which sweetens the palate, from the blossoms of flowers in the season of the rains, which is firm. Your love, milk, has filled the recesses of my heart. The learned ones, your praise, is like the fragrant scent of incense. For the eye of my mind, its shadow is light and swift. Salutation I say to your hair, which is like flame. The beauty of its fragrance is wondrous. Twenty-four heavenly priests, with their vestments, each consecrates the cherub. From among you, the Father is magnified and praised. Salutation to your stature in the lofty sanctuary, and it stands, a firm praise, full of majesty and dignity. Its shaking cannot be moved by the storm of sin, the adversary. The priests who offer the sacrifice of the kingdom of Fema, like you, Samuel, in the high place. Salutation, salutation to all your angelic forms. In the color of fire you are depicted. Priests of heaven, lightning, with which you are crowned. Day and night, for my sake, you watch. Where the God of righteousness, living, who is and will be.

I have multiplied, I myself, the number of your entire image. Salutation, salutation, while I speak in supplication. The priests of heaven said to me in a word of mercy and forgiveness. That which makes fragrant the quail and that which is the shoot of the plantain. The storehouse of your fasting is with us. O priests of heaven, I ask you firmly. As Christ accepted from the hand of the widow the needle. And like you, this fruit of my lips is truly. Prepare for me a salutation and a righteous one. I myself do not desire silver and gold. Salutation to your vestments, the word of God which they put on. The brightness of lightning like the eye of the cherubim is among them. Tongues of fire you are, which they kindle. They judge the branches of the garden and the trees of the fruit they make fruitful. From the head of Hermon, the dew of the priests, sprinkle. Salutation to the odor of your vestments, which is the incense of Aaron, not to be compared. And it is not a plant in the desert of Sheba which exists. Good priests, chosen from the sprouting. The dust of the road, as it covers the blind. The wind of your mouth will scatter all my errors.

The sun’s rays, ten and two, where it rises and sets. And the breezes, like it is. The priests of heaven, careful, your number in this. The beginning of the seasons you chose for his house. He offered the consecration, his vestment, and it was fitting for him. Our Lord God, as he accepted from us. The sacrifice of Noah, our father. The priests of heaven, likewise, accept from us. The prayer of my mouth, make it sweet, a dwelling. Before the face of the Trinity, I beseech, bowing down. The Lord God who made the first heaven. Within the house of Abraham, he appeared, reclining in his Trinity. The priests of heaven, likewise, change me. My song, if it is good before you, give me grass from the shoot of abundance. Jacob, the son of prophecy, when he fled from the face of the wild beasts. The Lord God with him, as he leaned. The priests of heaven, hasten, a great one descended. For my blessing, spread out your hands, for you are accustomed to mercy in you.