1. A captive of sins stands at Your door,

    seeking leave to pass, though counterfeit when assayed.

  2. Each day he repents, then falls again into sin,

    whenever a temptation arises or its touch comes upon him.

  3. After forty, he proves debased—though forty is indeed

    the furthest limit toward which a transgressor may run.

  4. He gazes with the heart’s eye whenever a flash appears,

    and listens with the heart’s ear whenever an unseen caller cries.

  5. He consoles himself with postponement, deluding himself—a notion

    around whose meaning feeble souls hover.

  6. I know where the cure for wayward desire lies,

    and I desire it—but where is a soul that will comply?

  7. How can I hope to awaken from my passion

    when neither the heart pounds nor the tears flow?

  8. I await repentance, while persistence in sin is my habit;

    but far from it—no sweet syrup is gathered from bitter aloe.

  9. If my reason does not restrain me from error,

    then what good can all my knowledge do me?

  10. My soul bends it in ways I do not wish,

    and reason’s argument cannot turn my soul aside.

  11. My Lord, I am ruined, save for one last remnant,

    rich in my good hope of You, both old and new.

  12. The earliest of his sins may destroy the spiritually idle man,

    yet, at the last, subtle graces may rescue him.

  13. I truly hope for mercy from You, close at hand,

    although I am afraid because of my evil deeds.

Sol 6.1