My hands are bloodied, my skin is calloused,
I've labored and I've toiled.
This yoke upon my neck, the restraints on my wrists
Were placed by my own hands.
This stone I've carried, that I have burdened for
Was lifted from my arms.
You have circumcised my heart
You have refused my bribery.
What is offered cannot be procured
It is the free gift of God.
For I have become like one who is unclean, in my travail.
And all my righteous deeds are like filthy rags.
And I will wither like the autumn leaf,
My iniquities, like the wind, will cast me away.
Come to me all ye weary and heavy laden
And I will give you rest,
I'll give you rest.