Psalm 39:2. 4-7. Second Part
The vanity of man as mortal.
Teach me the measure of my days,
Thou maker of my frame;
I would survey life’s narrow space,
And learn’ how frail I am.
A span is all that we can boast,
An inch or two of time;
Man is but vanity and dust
In all his flower and prime.
See the vain race of mortals move
Like shadows o’er the plain;
They rage and strive, desire and love,
But all the noise is vain.
Some walk in honour’s gaudy show,
Some dig for golden ore,
They toil for heirs, they know not who,
And straight are seen no more.
What should I wish or wait for then
From creatures, earth and dust?
They make our expectations vain,
And disappoint our trust.
Now I forbid my carnal hope,
My fond desires recall;
I give my mortal interest up,
And make my God my all.