Lord, show me how to count my days,
for life is like a single breath:
so swift, the passing of the years,
so brief, the course from birth to death;
and all my labor seems in vain,
however great the wealth I gain.
I have no hope, except in you,
so show me mercy for my sin;
let not my heart be overwhelmed
as I receive your discipline.
In hushed and holy awe I stand:
I feel my pain; I sense your hand.
But why should those who scorn your name
derive enjoyment from my fear?
I keep my feelings to myself
whenever godless ears are near;
yet how the fires within me burn
until, at last, to you I turn.
A stranger in the midst of life,
a rootless traveler passing through,
I ask you, Lord, to hear my prayer,
and not to spurn my cry to you;
but let me find, instead of tears,
sofficient joys for all my years.
