Thou wast transfigured on the mount, O Christ God,/ revealing Thy glory to Thy disciples as far as they could bear it./ Let Thine everlasting light shine upon us sinners/ through the prayers of the Theotokos, O Giver of Light, glory to Thee.
Aflame with the Spirit like a living coal/ thou didst burn up the thorns of error,/ O blessed trophy-bearer Laurence,/ archdeacon of Christ./ Like rational incense thou didst become a whole burnt offering/ to Him Who magnified thee./ Wherefore shelter from all assaults of the enemy those who glorify thee.
Thou wast a Confessor for the Faith, a friend and father of saints/ and a wise and pious king, O holy Geraint./ Even in the Age of Saints thy virtues shone forth, O righteous one,/ and as thou wast a shining beacon guiding thy subjects in Devon into the way of salvation,/ intercede we beseech thee, with Christ our God,/ for those who call upon thee, that He will save their souls.
Drifting over the sea in a boat without oars/ thou wast directed by God to the Island of Bute, O Hierarch Blane,/ where thou didst devote thyself to apostolic labours./ O performer of miracles,/ thou art worthy to be praised as Equal to the Apostles./ Wherefore we beseech thee pray to Christ our God/ that He will raise up labourers to recultivate that northern part of His Vineyard,/ so long overgrown with the weeds of heresy and apostasy,/ which thou didst once tend with such care,/ that again many may be led into the way of salvation.
Thou wast transfigured on the mountain, O Christ our God,/ and Thy disciples beheld Thy glory as far as they were capable,/ that when they should see Thee crucified,/ they might know that Thy suffering was voluntary/ and might proclaim to the world/ that Thou art indeed the reflection of the Father.
With divine fire thou didst kindle thy heart, O Laurence/ and reduce the fire of the passions to ashes./ O staff of athletes, Godbearing Martyr,/ thou didst cry with faith while contesting:/ No one will separate me from the love of Christ.