The Sighing of My Heart

The woman has fallen into many sins, o Lord, yet when she perceived your divinity, she joined the ranks of the Myrrh-bearing women. In tears she brought you myrrh before your burial. She cried: woe is me! For I live in the night of licentiousness, shrouded in the dark and moonless love of sin. But accept the fountain of my tears, as you gathered the waters of the sea into clouds, bow down your ear to the sighing of my heart, as you bowed the heavens in your ineffable condescension. Once Eve heard your footstep in paradise in the cool of the day, and in fear she ran and hid herself. But now I will tenderly embrace those pure feet and wipe them with the hair of my head. Who can measure the multitude of my sins, or the depth of your judgments, Savior of my soul? Despise not your servant in your immeasurable mercy.