How shall I mourn the blindness of my soul? How shall I mourn my calamitous ignorance of mine own self? How shall I mourn my passionate and unrepentant arbitrary exercise of my free will? The ascetics are comforted, consoled by the Holy Spirit; but I agonize and complain of the wretchedness that is caused by mine own apathy. I have sunk to the level of the senseless beasts and become like unto them. Wretched as I am, I have been stripped by mine own laziness, because I alienate myself from those who stand vigil and pray.

Regard me with mercy, O Master, from Thy holy heights. Look upon the impenitence of my poor soul, and by the judgments that Thou knowest, have mercy on me and correct me. As if standing before Thy throne and touching Thine immaculate feet, I beseech and beg Thee with contrite heart: have mercy on me; show Thy loving-kindness to Thy creature; freely convert me by Thy grace.

I know that Thou canst do all things and that nothing is impossible for Thee. Wait not for my corrupt will to exercise itself, for I lack the ambition to correct myself.

May every visible and invisible being weep for me, who have grown old in sins and passions. Weep for me who appear to those who see me to be chaste, yet inwardly am ever adulterous.