My God, my Lord,
Grant me strength to endure,
Grant me faith to heal.
I know that a wretch like me deserves nothing,
I know that in Your mercy, You let me live still,
That I may atone for my sins.
I know how audacious it is of me,
To address You directly,
Yet now, more than ever,
I see my own nothingness, my helplessness.
When You pulled me from the abyss,
I was absolutely certain of one thing—
The truth You revealed to me.
In my human folly,
I thought I was made of stone, invincible.
But one cross was enough—
A cross I might claim wasn’t mine,
Yet one I was to help bear—
And I crumbled into grains of sand.
Lord, how many crosses did You bear?
How many sins, like nails, fastened You to that tree?
So I have no right to ask for anything more,
Yet I will knock upon Your door and plead:
Help me!
Whispering softly from the depths of my soul:
Let Your will be done, not mine.
Arkadiusz Niewolski
Catholic during the Great Apostasy 
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