Prayer of the contrite.
From the recesses of a lowly spirit,
Our humble prayer ascends; O Father! hear it,
Upsoaring on the wings of awe and meekness;
Forgive its weakness!
2 We see thy hand: it leads us, it supports us;
We hear thy voice: it counsels and it courts us:
And then we turn away; and still thy kindness
Forgives our blindness.
3 O, how long-suffering, Lord! but thou delightest