The fable of the world have bereaved me of time given to contemplate God; nor have they solely used his Graces to forget him, but with them, more than without, have they turned to sin, What makes another wise, makes me blind and solid and slow to recognize my own error; lessens the hope, and yet increases desire that by you I be released from love of my own, Halve the path that ascends to heaven, my dear Lord, and solely to that half to ascend is your aid my requiste. Cast in hatred for me whatever the world values and whatever beauties it honors and cherishes. so that before death I may grasp etrnal life.