often to the dust I fall

Photo by Kunj Parekh on Unsplash 

O Lord, I bear your holy image in the depths of my soul,
   and though marred by faults,
   it is still radiant with your own ineffable glory.
I cry out to you from the depths, cast down into despondency.
Of old you made me from the dust of the earth,
   and often to the dust I fall.
But restore me to that radiance of your image
   and lift me again to my ancient beauty.
Show your compassion to your creature, Lord,
   and raise me up once more to be able to sing to you in praise
   with a glad and lightened heart,
   with renewed vigor and hope;

for you are a God of mercy and compassion,
and to you we offer glory:
   to the Father, and to the Son, and to the Holy Spirit.
Now and ever and to the ages of ages.


As a father has compassion on his children,
    so the Lord has compassion on those who fear him;
 for he knows how we are formed,
    he remembers that we are dust.

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