I constant care will take,
Lest sinful words they hear;
My lips their silence shall not break
While wicked men are near.
I dumb and silent stood,
No words of mine were heard;
I even refrained from speaking good,
Till sorrow’s deeps were stirred.
My heart was all on fire,
With burning thoughts suppressed;
My tongue was loosed, my soul’s desire
I then to God addressed.
My end, Lord, make me know,
My days, how soon they fail;
And to my thoughtful spirit show
How weak I am and frail.
To Thy eternal thought
My days are but a span;
To Thee my years appear as naught,
A breath at best is man.
Man lives in empty show,
His anxious care is vain,
He hoards his wealth, and does not know
Who shall possess his gain.