Almighty Maker of my frame,

Teach me the measure of my days;

Teach me to know how frail I am,

And spend the remnant to thy praise.

2 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!

3 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.

4 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.