Lord, there is so much in me
That other people cannot see,
My weakness and my secret pride,
The sins that fester deep inside,
The idleness that seeks to shirk
The drudgery of dreary work.
The thoughts that wander when I pray
Like witless sheep that go astray.
The self-indulgence of a mind
To dreamy reverie inclined.
The part that hurries overmuch
And tarries not to feel Thy touch.
The part that speaks of me and mine
And not enough of Thee and Thine.
Every Lent I say this prayer
Lord bless and help me to prepare
A soul more fit to sing Thy praise
When come the holy Easter Days.