Sinners all, we ask for Your forgiveness
As we await the hour of Your return. If only grace were something one could earn! Nor can we hope to imitate Your goodness. The saints know well the hopelessness of being
Put upon the pedestal of faith As though we had already gained Your grace. The heart is naked to Your restless seeking. Regard us all, then, equally with love:
In saints and vicious pederasts find lovers, Cherishing not one above the others,
Knowing none has anything to prove.