Veneration of St. Pope Kyrillos VI

A veneration to the tune of Ep Ouro/O King of Peace

From the tradition of the greats,
Ancient and illustrious
Comes the great Abba Kyrillos
Whom we venerate with boldness.

At the turn of the last century,
Raised in a Christian flock,
Of you a monk foretold,
“This one is of our stock.”

In a pious home you were raised,
and taught of God’s great love,
From childhood, it was clear,
He’d marked you from above.

Of the monastic way,
You generously imbibed.
Of the charity of your youth,
Your brother has described:

You saw the sighing of the poor,
And had contempt for disparity,
Regardless of belief,
You gave the hand of charity.

Indeed poverty was no feat,
For you, of no earthly needs,
To unite with Him you yearned,
This showed in all your deeds.

In the cave of his own room,
This father made his cell
Practicing asceticism,
In secret; no man to tell (or, “only the walls could tell”)

For years you practiced this,
And died to earthly things,
Nothing could bind your soul,
Neither sin or wealth of kings.

Oh the joy you felt that day,
Full of peace and great gladness,
When all ties were overcome,
And you left for the wilderness.

For your wondrous friend,
You received your name,
Axios Abba Mena ,
Your wonders would be the same.

You took a deserted cell,
Worthless to the passerby,
But in it you truly fought,
And proclaimed your battle cry.

To Satan you were a warrior,
The fathers, you were a son,
To brothers, a servant,
By this, all things you won.

“Love all, but keep distance”,
Was your famous way,
For a love worth more than words,
Is always to pray.

Truly you became,
Prayer incarnate,
When you left even the monks,
And became a hermit (or anchorite)

Unafraid of earthly law,
Or by man to be judged,
He obeyed the rule of love
And with exiled monks he trudged.

From there to the wilderness,
You returned to the holy hill,
Living again alone,
In the small windmill.

To you the people came,
You converted many souls,
You fought the enemy,
On his head, you heaped coals.

Between there and Old Cairo,
Your abode was made,
Healing the souls of men,
Now became your trade.

When the throne of St. Mark,
Was vacant for some years,
God called you to lead,
You were overcome with tears.

Christ is the Good Shepherd,
You declared to all,
In meekness bowed your head,
And began your call.

On your head were laid the hands,
And all said, “Axios!”
All were moved to tears,
Axios, Abba Kyrillos!

You did not worship the mind
Nor rule with an iron rod
But led the wayward flock
To find the Kingdom of God

With the joyous you rejoiced
With mourners you did weep
Firm when needed to be firm
Desiring to keep your sheep

Though a giant in the faith
You let the clergy teach
While you, the true elder,
Rarely did you preach.

Instead your words were your deeds,
Your love and compassion,
Your ascesis and unending love
Your incessant supplication

To the altar you led the flock
Taking their burdens and pain
In the image of the true High Priest
As though Christ had come again

For truly every day,
Your hands in prayer, raised,
The altar was your home,
Daily fire on it blazed.

How can we neglect,
To speak of your friendship,
With the great Saint Mar Mena,
Of that heavenly fellowship?

You taught us that in truth,
These bonds can be attained,
That heaven cares for earth,
And that unity can be gained.

Also in your days,
Our Lady came to us,
Dressed in apparel of light,
In beauty illustrious.

As a symbol of your prayers,
This vision was received,
That heaven hears the earth,
No longer were we grieved.

You invested in the youth,
And in education,
You raised in twelve short years,
The leaders of our generation:

Gregory and Samuel,
Shenouda and Matthew the Poor,
From these, your disciples,
The church saw great grandeur.

To steer the church with you,
Strong bishops you ordained,
So that your time with the people,
Would always be retained.

Though loved by kings and rulers,
Your role was not confused,
The Church is not the state,
Politics, you refused.

A monastery did you build,
Seven monks did you ordain,
The first was the saintly Mena,
The last, a papal nominate.

For your father you built a home,
And ,
To Abba Mena ava Mena,

Your disciple, to us, revealed
On the day of your last breath
You sent him to bring the people
No thoughts for your own health

Bring the people to me, you said,
Invite them from the streets,
Like the wedding of the Bridegroom,
For Whom your heart did beat

Your parting prayer that day,
Yes, your last exchange,
“I entrust you to our God
All your needs, He will arrange.”

The giant fell asleep,
The pillar breathed his last,
Of the calibre and greatness
Of all the ages past

O spirit-borne father,
Companion of all the Saints
Pray for us in this world
That evil, never us taints.

O 13th Apostle,
Beholder of Saint Mark,
Remember us your children,
Guide us in the dark.

Wonder-worker of our time,
In virtue illustrious,
Seer of the souls of men,
You were truly victorious.

Before the throne of God,
For all of us pray,
O God of Abba Kyrillos,
Hear us when we say:

Khen ef ran…
Axios: Papa Abba Kyrillos [pima soo] pi arshierevs or patriarchis

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