Nisibis 55

The son of his voice Evil to death, behold, he diminishes and also is diminished. They hasten and are in haste, and also their necks are twisted. A cry of help: Praise to you, son of the Lord of all, who died for the sake of all. And he was troubled that for all he might give life on the day of his coming. The sign of victory and the work were from that of Sheol. A lock was for me, that for the sake of the living, the lives of sinners. Do not oppress them, or evil to that son of Matthew. The person of wrath, show that they have multiplied their works. Good, easy, all your peace, death, the pursuer. For nothing is pleasant to me from all that I have said. When, then, did the word of truth please you? Is it a trap for you for truth or falsehood? I am sad from my days, not repentant. I come, I come, who hastens; I come from you to my limbs, my members. Before your repentance, death, beautiful, you came. Behold, also Sheol among the tombs, a great tumult. If you, death, are justified, not even against myself. Hope shows, I cease, I who do not return; I cease. A contest with my Lord, you did not make; a helper of his Lord. With dead contests, for the living, behold, you kill.

Divide your death, O knower of the son of his voice, and diminish your half. He is divided, he returns, if he returns, wonder, the son of his voice, again. Your partner, you are in the womb, and not in sin. For me, the slain, and for you, the slayers, whom you caused to sin, I see. My orphanhood weeps over the soul of your people whom you deceived. My cries upon me, mourners, because I reached your side. Fates and afflictions and remembrances with all my debts. The mountain that you gathered in Abel, in Sheol, you crushed. The penitent who rang in the valleys and swallowed the afflicted. Your ribs, the rocks that roar from within your belly. A treasury it is, guarded for me, all the righteous. Their strength for you is armed, because you pursued, I see. The infant of the whole creation, its compassion in its entrails. Behold, it hastens in me, that I was stripped from my bones. Before the wall, do not be moved, for it is not your reach. The day will come that you will burst, and I will hear and rejoice. The mountain will come, and also your skin will be stripped from you, as his skin was stripped by the hand of insolence, the skin of Job.

The scent of simplicity began, as if it flew in me. It was a dream, as if I sought, you abolished the small mountain. There were no words, they were lacking to me, and upon that silence. Upon that occasion, you cut for me that the wound might go out. The midst of your discourse, good, much woe to me, I did not hear it. All my thought was upon the hunt of my smallness. This is the folly that destroyed the beautiful, its excess. In idleness with pleasantness, chosen, as it was worn. The guide of desire, the tamer, the scribe of its sacrifice. The freeborn with the hired were guarantors. In steadfastness instead of strength, the fool contends. And if he who seeks, the fool, little, he is not my ruler. With steadfast tears, the shouts in smallness, that the steadfast thrower might also loosen the mountain. Custom also becomes lord to the chaste, teaching, it hunts even the lion like the beast. Custom, swift, and advantage, and steadfastness, by which freedom is justified, is harder than all. If the will is shaken, the stumbling blocks break. And if he seeks, the weak one, can he hunt her? If he who fears freedom, he will be scattered. And if he hastens, he stumbles, he sins against you that you may mock her. Do not speak much, lest you speak much and be idle. With love, approach the wall, and behold, it will be opened. Go, you, and close the holes, and I will set traps. For me, sins, and for you, deaths, a great rest. And also, in idleness, you did not cease from my pasture. That my will from standing did not cease, that it might be prepared.