And binds thy hands
Out-crying my requests, drowing my tears
Or else the chillness of my faint demands.
But as cold hands are angry with the fire and mend it still;
So I do lay the want of my desire
Not on my sins, or coldness, but thy will
Yet hear, O God, only for his blood's sake
Which pleads for me
For though sins plead, too,
yet like stones they make
His blood's sweet current much more loud to be.
(George Herbert, Church Lock & Key)