When I look at the heavens, the work of your fingers,
the moon and the stars, which you have set in place,
what is man that you are mindful of him,
and the son of man that you care for him?
When I think of the righteous and holy King, who am I that He should think of me? Who am I that I should be redeemed by His blood? I am a jar of clay, a creation from dust to dust, and in the end, an unworthy servant. That He should set His love on me speaks nothing of my worthiness and everything of His mercy.