Answer:
Oh lord! I am not worthy! I bend my limbs to the ground. I cry yet without a sound. Let me drink of waters deep. And in silence I will weep.
What can one catch that is not thrown?
I always go to bed with my shoes on. What am I?
Marking mortal privation when firmly in place. An enduring summation inscribed in my face.
I have four fingers and a thumb, but I'm not living. What am I?
An open ended barrel, it is shaped like a hive. It is filled with the flesh, and the flesh is alive!