When he had seen the sun's rays hidden and the temple veil torn asunder while the Saviour died, Joseph went to Pilate and cried:
Give me that Stranger,
who had wandered since his youth as a stranger.
Give me that Stranger,
by hatred slain, as a stranger.
Give me that Stranger,
whom I behold with wonder, seeing him a guest of death.
Give me that Stranger,
cut off from this world by envious men.
Give me that Stranger,
that I might lay him in a tomb,
who, being a stranger, has no place to rest his head.
Give me that Stranger,
to whom his Mother cried when she saw his dead:
"My Son, wounded are my senses and my heart burns
as I behold you dead!
Yet I praise you for I trust in your Resurrection!"
-Byzantine Troparion of the Burial of Christ
