Batter my heart

I, too, would plead “Batter my heart”, save
Knowing its state, there would be naught left
To offer after, but shards blown away as chaff;
Yet it may be they may do better.
Break away, then, out of the pieces, take two
And of them, another being make new -
Poor in body, maimed, blind and dead
To all the wiles of this wasted land.
And keep that body broken through, until bonds
Base and earthly loosen their hold
That whole in soul, it may arrive at last,
Strained that it might come to final rest.