From my lips in their defilement -  St. John of Damascus

From my lips in their defilement,

From my heart in its beguilement,

From my tongue which speaks not fair,

From my soul stained everywhere,

O my Jesus, take my prayer!

Spurn me not for all it says,

Not for words and not for ways,

Not for shamelessness endued!

Make me brave to speak my mood,

O my Jesus, as I would!

Or teach me, which I rather seek,

What to do and what to speak.

I have sinned more than she,

Who learning where to meet with Thee,

And bringing myrrh, the highest-priced,

Anointed bravely, from her knee,

Thy blessed feet accordingly,

My God, my Lord, my Christ!

As Thou saidest not 'Depart'

To that suppliant from her heart,

Scorn me not, O Word, that art

The gentlest one of all words said!

But give Thy feet to me instead

That tenderly I may them kiss

And clasp them close, and never miss

With over-dropping tears, as free

And precious as that myrrh could be,

T'anoint them bravely from my knee!

Wash me with Thy tears: draw nigh me,

That their salt may purify me.

Thou remit my sins who knowest

All the sinning to the lowest --

Knowest all my wounds, and seest

All the stripes Thyself decreest;

Yea, but knowest all my faith,