During the night of Holy Tuesday, we chant in the Churches the Matins of Holy Wednesday. The last troparion of the service is the hymn of Kassiani, a pious poet from Byzantium.
Sensing your divinity Lord, a woman of many sins, takes it upon herself to become a myrrh bearer and in deep mourning brings before you fragrant oil in anticipation of your burial; crying: "Woe to me! What night falls on me, what dark and moonless madness of wild-desire, this lust for sin. Take my spring of tears You who draw water from the clouds, bend to me, to the sighing of my heart, You who bend the heavens in your secret incarnation, I will wash your immaculate feet with kisses and wipe them dry with the locks of my hair; those very feet whose sound Eve heard at the dusk in Paradise and hid herself in terror. Who shall count the multitude of my sins or the depth of your judgment, Saviour of my soul? Do not ignore your handmaiden, You whose mercy is endless".