i'm falling at Your feet, Dad.
The snares of the world were its ways of sin. He would fall. He had not yet fallen but he would fall silently, in an instant. Not to fall was too hard, too hard; and he felt the silent lapse of his soul, as it would be at some instant to come, falling, falling, but not yet fallen, still unfallen, but about to fall. - A Portrait of the Artist, James Joyce
my gracious Redeemer.. my Savior art thou
if ever i love thee.. my Jesus, 'tis now.