Tune: heathlands
('God of mercy, God of grace')
Psalm 39 v.4-8
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Little me, Lord, make me know
How brief my days, them me show
So I see how frail I be
Compared to you, Almighty
I humble self 'neath your hand
Meek shall inherit the land
Behold, my days a a span
Be, and no one surely can
Prolong them, man as vapour
Be, which passes as mist, see
Yet such you, Lord, look upon
And save through Jesus your Son
People stir in vanity
And their lives they troubled be
If pursuing worldly gain
Causes them distress and pain
True riches be found in you
Only good and only true
And now Lord what wait I for?
You are my hope evermore
Save me from all my sins, take
Them away for mercies' sake
Hoping in you make me not
Prone to reproach, shameful lot
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Author:
orchidee (
Offline) - Published: April 7th, 2022 02:20
- Comment from author about the poem: A hymn-poem in 7.7.7.7.7. format.
- Category: Spiritual
- Views: 32
- Users favorite of this poem: Crowns4Christ
Offline)
Comments5
Very inspirational brother Orchi, absolutely beautiful, like your singing, hahahaha
Thanks Blue.
you can go large for very little additional outlay .. or so I'm told ..
Thanks N.
Beautifully written. Though our days be numbered, we have the capacity to give the very best of who we are and that comes from a pure heart. Your heart is pure and constant.
Thanks Bella.
Good one Orchi.
Thanks Gold.
Good read dear Orchi
Thanks Arvy.
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