By A Collection of Hymns

      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.