Psalms 39:4

• [Psa 39:4] Almighty Maker Of My Frame

  Almighty Maker of my frame! Teach me the measure of my days, Teach me to know how frail I am, And spend the remnant in Thy praise. My days are shorter than a span, A little point my life appears; How frail at best is dying man! How vain are all his hopes and fears! Vain his ambition, noise and show; Vain are the cares which rack his mind; He heaps up treasures mixed with woe, And dies and leaves them all behind. O be a nobler portion mine! My God, I bow before Thy throne; Earth’s fleeting treasures I resign, And fix my hope on Thee alone.

  source: Cyberhymnal

• [Psa 39:4] Teach Me The Measure Of My Days

  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 honor’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.

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  source: Cyberhymnal

Psalms 49:10

• [Psa 49:10] Dust To Dust, The Mort­al Dies

  Dust to dust, the mortal dies, Both the foolish and the wise; None forever can remain, Each must leave his hoarded gain. Yet within their heart they say That their houses are for aye, That their dwelling places grand Shall for generations stand. To their lands they give their name In the hope of lasting fame, But man’s honor quickly flies, Like the lowly beast he dies. Though such folly mark their way, Men approve of what they say; Death their shepherd, they the sheep, He within his fold will keep. O’er them soon shall rule the just, All their beauty turn to dust; God my waiting soul shall save, He will raise me from the grave. Let no fear disturb your peace Though one’s house and wealth increase; Death shall end his fleeting day, He shall carry naught away. Though in life he wealth attained, Though the praise of men he gained, He shall join those gone before, Where the light shall shine no more. Crowned with honor though he be, Highly gifted, strong and free, If he be not truly wise, Man is like the beast that dies.

  source: Cyberhymnal