All things are small compared to Thee—
All things small,
Yet great in that You love them.
I, too, am small—
Small in deeds,
Small in virtues,
Small in holiness,
Yet wrapped in the shimmering cloak
Of Your great love for me.
All I have, Lord, is this twisted image—
Oh, restore its likeness unto Thee.
Sin is in my very being;
It gnaws at me…
And through its grip and through its grasp
I have destroyed myself.
But You, Lord, restore.
In the first creation You gave me myself;
But that was not enough,
For I am no good keeper of myself,
And what You created with a word
I despoiled with reckless will.
But then You gave Your Word again—
This time in suffering—
And through Your blood redeemed us all.
Having lost myself, You gave me Yourself,
And restored to me
The self that I had lost.
Oh, how great a salvation!
That we, poor and wretched,
Be inflamed by so measureless a love!
Our sins continue their damnèd course,
But Your redemption, gentle and strong,
Outreaches every one.
More can Thou remit, O Lord,
Than we, beloved rebels,
Can e’er commit.
Even now I see it—
This love that takes even my sins
And turns them into worships.
Someday all this shall pass away,
And we will see anew—
Your final deed, Your final word,
Will break upon the world—
The beautiful secret of all delight.
And You, Lord, will make all things well,
For all things abide in Thee,
And well do You love them all.