I stood before You, O God; I stood before You, bowing my heart. For I have learned that the way to You begins with bowing down, and that prayer is what I break within myself.
In me is a Pharisee who knows the words and masters the standing, but forgets that mercy is not given to the one who stands in pride.
And in me is a publican who stands afar off, beats his breast, and whispers: "Have mercy on me, a sinner."
O Lord, silence the voice of boasting, and keep the voice of repentance.
Take from me my comparisons, and plant in me contrition.
Do not raise me up before people. No, O Lord. Do not raise me up, but lower me before You. For whoever bows here is raised up there.
And let me leave Your presence light of heart, knowing that grace is given only to the broken.
Make the whole rhythm of my life a single cry, quiet and honest:
"O God, have mercy on me, a sinner."
"O God, have mercy on me, a sinner."
"O God, have mercy on me, a sinner."