Nisibene Hymn 68: The Slaves Who Became Lords

O Death, do not be boastful over the just,

the sons of your Lord, who at his command come to dwell with you.

Refrain: Glory to you, by whose command Death has reigned,

and by whose resurrection he has been brought low!

In this I am exceedingly great, by your own saying:

that though I am a slave, I trample on those who are free.

Adam was chosen, and was ruler, and under his yoke

you, Death, and the Evil One, your fellow, became slaves.

This is our pride: that look, the slaves have become lords;

Death, and Satan his fellow, have trampled on Adam.

Look at the humbling of you and your fellow, you cursed servants!

How Enoch trampled on you both, and rose on high and reigned!

Even if Enoch made me grieve, I still have comfort:

for look, I trample on Noah’s dust in Sheol.

Tremble, O Death, before man; for though he is a servant,

the yoke of his dominion reigns over all creatures.

I rejoice, then, that they are no mean foes whom I have overcome:

for the greater the vanquished, the greater is he who overcomes.

Well does your voice sing its triumph over the just, O Death:

for Enoch and Elijah have broken your pair of wings!

I know how to weigh my sorrows against my comforts:

in place of two, look, many have come and are coming.

All who have come and are coming to you live there as temporary guests,

and leave your dwelling as Lazarus did.

This saying of yours does not hurt me; rather, it heals me:

for Lazarus, who rebelled against me, I subdued again.

Answer, O Death, and argue: what compelled him to be raised,

unless it was a mystery showing forth his resurrection?

You are famous for arguing, like idle people,

while I labor at my task, to discern and to carry it out.

You were well prepared for argument; what has stopped you?

The truth of our resurrection has compelled you by its renown.

You have made me hated by you, though I am not hateful:

I am the one who gives rest to your old and your afflicted.

You have made me out to be a troubler, you mortals:

Adam brought death on you, and I bear the blame.

I will expose you gently, for I am a slave,

and you are the ones who by your sins have made me king.

Adam’s will roused me, for I was at rest:

I was dead, and you gave me life, so that you might die by me.

I accuse the liars, who killed and denied it:

for Adam killed himself, and he accuses me.

The beginning of strife was the cursed serpent, which has rightly been crippled:

it crept, it entered, and it set enmity between me and you.

Satan is passed over, and it is against me that you are roused:

go, fight it out with the Evil One, who made you transgress.

He is my comrade, and I do not deny it; but though he is much hated,

why should I be blamed for him? From now on I deny him.

Listen to my words, you mortals, and I will console you:

I have afflicted you, and I confess the life from the dead.

For there begins to steal into my ears the sound of preparation:

of the trumpet that is holding itself ready to sound.

Hear my words, and put plenty of oil in your lamps:

for on my part there is nothing to hinder you.

Yet know that, even though I have said these things,

the sound of your voice is dear to me in the solitude of Sheol.

For I have weighed man, and great is his peace:

for snakes and fishes and birds come to meet him.

But it is a marvel that his company is dear to the Watchers too;

yes, the Evil One in Gehenna longs for his presence.

You will have life from the dead, you mortals,

and I, who am bereaved, will be left bereaved in the midst of Sheol.

Let praise rise up from all to you, who give life to all,

and gather the dust of Adam from every quarter!