Rich and fertile was the earth allotted to us, but all we planted were the seeds of sin. We reaped the harvest of evil with the sickle of laziness. We failed to place our evil fruits on the threshing floor of contrition. So now we beg You, O Lord, the Master of the harvest: may Your love become like the wind that blows away the straw of our worthless deeds, and make us like the precious wheat to be stored in heaven, and save us all!
From the Orthodox liturgy at vespers on the ‘Sunday of the Prodigal Son’
