I was entrusted with a sinless and living land,

But I sowed the ground with sin

And reaped with a sickle the ears of laziness;

In thick sheaves, I garnered my actions,

But winnowed them not on the threshing-floor

Of repentance.

I beg of you, my God, the eternal farmer,

With the wind of your loving-kindness

Winnow the chaff of my works,

And grant to my soul the harvest of forgiveness;

Shut me in your heavenly storehouse, and save me.

From Byzantine Vespers service