Idiomela for a Sunday of the Fourth Tone

Are thy toils and woes increasing?
Are the Foe's attacks unceasing?
Look with Faith unclouded,
Gaze with eyes unshrouded,
On the Cross!

Dost thou fear that strictest trial?
Tremblest thou at Christ's denial?
Never rest without it,
Clasp thine hands about it,
—That dear Cross

Diabolic legions press thee?
Thoughts and works of sin distress thee?
It shall chase all terror,
It shall right all error,
That sweet Cross!

Draw’st thou nigh to Jordan's river?
Should’st thou tremble? Need’st thou quiver?
No! if by it lying,
No! if on it dying,
On the Cross!

Say then,—"Master, while I cherish
That sweet hope, I cannot perish!
After this life's story,
Give Thou me the glory
For the Cross!"