Lift me, Lord, for I fall and nothing stays me,

loveless and heedless, without faith or fear.

I long to rise but lie unmoving here:

the very self that wishes disobeys me.

Though one, my self divides and then betrays me:

at once both dead, alive; sad, full of cheer;

not able—though I can—to persevere,

I flee the sin that tangles and delays me.

So obstinate am I, so steeled in will,

that fear of being lost and fear to lose you

have never yet dissuaded me from ill.

Work, then, your power and mercy so I choose you,

since I know some who mend each day—and still

find in myself but fresh desire to bruise you.