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XXIV. The Vanity of Man as Mortal

I 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.

II A span is all that we can boast,
An inch or two of time;
Man is but vanity and dust
In all his flow'r and prime.

III 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.

IV Some walk in honour's gaudy show,
Some dig for golden ore;
They toil for heirs they know not who,
And straight are seen no more.

V What should I wish or wait for then
From creatures, earth and dust,
They make our expectations vain,
And disappoint our trust.

VI Now I forbid my carnal hope,
My fond desires recal!
I give my mortal int'rest up,
And make my God my all.

Text Information
First Line: Teach me the measure of my days
Title: The Vanity of Man as Mortal
Meter: Short Metre
Language: English
Publication Date: 1787
Tune Information
(No tune information)



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