IN GRENT LENT
The Sunday of Saint Gregory Palamas
Vespers, Tone 8
Throwing off from my unruly mind the bridle of the Father, I have lived with bestial thoughts of sin, and in my misery like the Prodigal I have wasted all my life. Forsaking the food that gives strength to man’s heart, I have fed upon the pleasure that gives passing satisfaction. Yet, good Father, shut not against me the door of Thy compassionate love, but opening it wide receive me as the Prodigal Son and save me.