I said, “I’ll guard my ways with care, Lest sin should rule my tongue.” I held my peace, kept silent there— But grief still burned, unsung. My heart grew hot, my thoughts aflame, Then spoke I in my pain: “O Lord, reveal my fleeting frame, My days how brief, how vain!” A handbreadth’s span, my life appears, A shadow, frail and brief. All striving ends in dust and tears— What hope, what lasting peace? And now, O Lord, for what do I wait? My hope is fixed on Thee. From all my sins, my wayward state, O set this prisoner free! Before I fade and am no more, Hear now my mournful cry. Turn not away—my soul implores— O spare me when I die!
