What am I, O God of majesty and glory, or who am I, that Thou shouldst deign even to look on me? Whence am I honoured with so unspeakable a favour as that my Lord and my God should come and visit in person such a miserable sinner and vile worm of the earth? How dare a being more contemptible than nothing approach so holy a God, eat the bread of angels, and feed on thy divine flesh? Ah, Lord, it is too much! I am not worthy of so great a favour: I shall never – no, never deserve it.
O King of heaven and earth! Adorable Sovereign, the author and preserver of the universe! behold, I annihilate myself before thee, protesting that I would humble myself as much for Thy glory as Thou dost here for my salvation. I acknowledge with the most profound respect the infinite grandeur of thy Divine Majesty, and my own miserable baseness. The contemplation of one and the other fills me with inexpressible confusion. Can I possibly say more, my dear Saviour, than to confess, with the utmost humility, in the words of the centurion: “Lord, I am not worthy that Thou shouldst enter my roof; say but the word, and my soul shall be healed?”
My Jesus, mercy!