AndIprayTheedealwithmeasThouwilt，YetthebloodofThyfoesIhavefreelyspilt，And，moreover，mineisthegreaterguiltInthesightofTheeandThyFather。
Thatsaint，Thyservant，wascounteddearWhoseswordinthegardengrazedtheearOfThineenemy，LordRedeemer！
Notthusontheshatteringvisorjarr’dInthishandtheironofthehiltcross-barr’d，Whenthebladewasswallow’duptotheguardThroughtheteethofthestrongblasphemer。
IfeverIsmoteasamanshouldsmite，IfIstruckonestrokethatseem’dgoodinThysight，ByThylovingmercyprevailing，Lord！letherstandinthelightofThyface，Cloth’dwithThyloveandcrown’dwithThygrace，WhenIgnashmyteethintheterribleplaceThatisfill’dwithweepingandwailing。
ShallIcomfortmysoulonaccountofthis？