I have nothing except but my destitution
To plead for me with You.
And in my poverty I put forward that destitution as my plea.
I have no power save to knock at Your door,
And if I be turned away, at what door shall I knock?
Or on whom shall I call, crying his name,
If Your generosity is refused to Your destitute one?
Far be it from Your generosity to drive the disobedient one to despair!
Generosity is more freehanded than that.
In lowly wretchedness I have come to Your door,
Knowing that degradation there finds help.
In full abandon I put my trust in You,
Stretching out my hands to You, a pleading beggar.