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Why art thou slothful, O my wretched soul? Why dost thou waste thy days in thinking of unprofitable cares? Why art thou busy with the things that pass away? The last hour is at hand and we shall soon be parted from all that is here. While there is still time, return to soberness and cry: I have sinned against Thee, O my Savior, do not cut me down like the unfruitful fig tree; but, O Christ, in Thy compassion take pity on me as I call on Thee in fear: May we not be left outside the bridal chamber of Christ!
Ikos, Matins of Holy Tuesday