1 I constant care will take,
Lest sinful words they hear;
My lips their silence shall not break
While wicked men are near.
2 I dumb and silent stood,
No words of mine were heard;
I e'en refrained from speaking good,
Till sorrow's deeps were stirred.
3 My heart was all on fire,
With burning thoughts suppressed;
My tongue was loosed, my soul's desire
I then to God addressed.
4 My end, Lord, make me know,
My days, how soon they fall;
And to my thoughtful spirit show
How weak I am and frail.
5 To Thy eternal thought
My days are but a span;
To Thee my years appear as naught,
A breath at best is man.
6 Man lives in empty show,
His anxious care is vain,
He hoards his wealth, and does not know
Who shall possess his gain.
The Psalter: with responsive readings, 1912
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