Lenten Prayer

I found the following poem on a slip of paper in a book, after my mother died. It was in her handwriting, but she wasn't the author. It has no title, either. I haven't been able to trace its origin anywhere as yet. The punctuation is partly mine, since several lines ended in the handwritten version without any. 

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.