From filthy lips and from a loathsome hearth,
An impure tongue, and a polluted soul
Receive my supplication, O my Christ,
Do no reject my words, my ways or my
Presumption. Give me confidence to say
The things that I have wanted to, my Christ;
Or rather, teach me what I ought to do
And say. More than the Harlot I have sinned,
Who, when she learned where you were staying, bought
Sweet myrrh and came, with boldness to anoint
Your feet, my Christ, my Master and my Lord.
But, as you did not drive away the one
Whose heart made her draw near, O Word, do not
Abhor me; rather grant that I may clasp
Your feet, kiss and anoint them boldly with
A stream of tears, as with most precious myrrth.
Wash me with my tears, O Word,and with them
Cleance me; forgive my faults and grant me pardon.
You know how many are my evil deeds,
You know my wounds, too, and you see my bruises;
But my faith, too, you know, and you behold
My eagerness; you also hear my groans.
My God, my Maker, my Redeemer, not
One tear escapes you, not the part of one...
(translated by Arch. Ephrem Lash)