Mary chose that good thing,
I am so poor,
The weight of affliction keeps me on the floor.
Is it so bad to sit here with you?
Troubles are around me,
What more can I do.
I am weak Lord,
You know my frame.
The work is before me,
Strengthen me again.
For I am nothing without you,
Only your arm bring me through.
So here I sit, at your feet,
While all around me screams defeat.
But you are the Lord of All.
By your will I rise or fall.
Help me Lord to run my race and give you honour for my disgrace.