Nisibis 28

His voice resounded, the son of his voice. Behold, the righteous ones, O Lord, help; behold their pains. They are hired for their sufferings, beloved for their deaths. They are enkindled in their fruits, and they fall in their beauties. A sign: quickly, O sons, hasten. How long, O living ones, will you be insensible to their pains? And you will remember their mournings, and you will be ashamed of their deaths, Because their sins were the cause of their bodies. The branches that were spread out, their blacknesses are helped. And the righteous ones, O Lord, behold what is good, they were filled. How long, O beloved, O Lord, will they remain here? Now the righteous one has turned himself, and his fullness has changed. And the righteous one has turned his righteousness, and he has added and increased his fullness. In sleep, O Lord, he was shattered, and the rebellion was washed away from you. There is one who trusted in hope for his righteousnesses that they would be filled. Even the sick, O Lord, seek you, O Messiah. And even those who began and did, they hoped toward you that they would remain. Show them your face, the light that they seek for you. And that which they began and did, and they hoped that when the place stood, it would stand. He bowed and showed, O Lord, that for the doers he is the rider. And he trampled the hours; the sons of the horse separated from me, and there is no one to see them. The old men of the grave and the mourners of the sons of their mothers. The sons who were not buried did not taste the dead. They did not rejoice in me, O Lord, your erring servants. They did not mourn that they wept for the dead in their lives. Because they separated from me in death instead of life. Because I did not place my hands on their eyes. And I did not accompany with psalms, and I was defiled to revive all.

Lift up again the lamentation, that I may see the tears. And do not, O Lord, let it be that on both sides over you a mourner weeps. For one who died on the road is buried in a foreign land, and those who died in your monasteries are counted among your thorns? O Lord, make their lives a lamentation of repentance, and multiply their deaths with the splendor of hymns. Rejoice in their lives, and scatter their corpses. With the voice of the turtledove and the crane, teach your mourners that the living have no tears for the dead. And like one who has sinned, O Lord, destroy the destroyers. And if they are found and sin again, be glad and rejoice. And like one who has sinned, O Lord, let them be found and sin again. What do I fear? That you might reproach me with the beasts. To the foolish she-bear, O Lord, you have reproached greatly. With the sword and the slaughter of the appointed times, which put freedom to shame, praise the flight.