Less I have sinned with my understanding

Less I have sinned with my understanding
than my will, which I have with guilt weighed down.
Help me, my God! But foolish is my plea,
for you help only those who help themselves;
yet, who come unto you, they shall not want,
and ever held out to us are your arms.
But what of me, who drag my feet, and know
I’ve nothing done that could deserve your help?

Forgive me if folly is all I say;
the passions force out every word I speak:
I live in fear of Hell, but there direct
my steps; I would turn back, and yet can not.
But that you saved the thief I don’t forget:
to our eyes, more than his works deserved.
Wheresoever it wills your spirit breathes;
when it breathes, or why, none of us can tell.

Though a bad Christian, as my works proclaim,
anger or resentment I bear you none.
I have firm faith that all you do is good,
and that you do good both when life you give
or take; all is one that comes from your might.
Only a fool would be angry with you;
love of evil and ignorance of good -
if men don’t know you, there’s the reason why.