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Lord, Your pity and care show how harm spreads, how when we do wrong the grief all know grows, Your eager love displaces intense thought crowding in, each delusion melts away; in Your kindness You consider each soul who honors and believes unselfishly, unhesitatingly worthy of You; oh my bright gentle Sun, give me Your arm, a woman overwhelmed by her own faults; I don't deny how I spent the days of my youth were an insult to You--still You who've been so easy on our lost ways allow me who am sorry, grief-striken, to return to You now I am reformed. |
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Notes: From B S2:33:193; first printed 1889 Lawley 106-7. Translation: Lawley 106-7. Key |