Hermits and blameless women full of Grace,

To raise the heart into celestial space.

In storm and strife below to strengthen it,

A host of holy orisons have writ;

But one of all the multitudinous host

Of orison and praise has moved me most,

A prayer repeated by the priest in Lent,

In the dark days of fasting and lament

Upon my lips more often it will dwell—

And breathe on the faint soul a vital spell:

“O Ruler of my days! Ward off from me

The evil angel of despondency

And sloth; and let not from my lips be heard

The sharp repeating of the idle word;

Save me from lust, that snake which lives within;

And let me not be blind to my own sin,

Blind to my brother’s trespass let me,

Quicken the spirit of consent in me,

Of love, long-suffering and of chastity.”