S.M.

1 LORD, let me know mine end,
My days, how brief their date,
That I may timely comprehend
How frail my best estate.

2 My life is but a span,
Mine age as nought with thee;
Man, in his highest honour, man
Is dust and vanity.

3 A shadow even in health,
Disquieted with pride,
Or racked with care, he heaps up wealth
Which unknown heirs divide.

4 What seek I now, O Lord?
My hope is in thy Name;
Blot out my sins from thy record,
Nor give me up to shame.

5 Dumb at thy feet I lie,
For thou hast brought me low;
Remove thy judgments, lest I die,
I faint beneath thy blow.

6 At thy rebuke the bloom
Of man's vain beauty flies;
And grief shall, like a moth, consume
All that delights our eyes.

7 Have pity on my fears,
Hearken to my request,
Turn not in silence from my tears,
But give the mourner rest.

8 A stranger, Lord, with thee
I walk in pilgrimage,
Where all my fathers once, like me,
Sojourned from age to age.

9 O spare me yet, I pray;
Awhile my strength restore,
Ere I am summoned hence away,
And seen on earth no more.


This document (last modified July 18, 1995) from the Christian Classics Ethereal Library server, at @Wheaton College