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.
A span is all that we can boast,
An inch or two of time;
Man is but vanity and dust
In all his flower and prime.
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.
Turn now, O God of hosts, look down from heaven;
behold and tend this vine;
preserve what your right hand has planted.
Let your hand be upon the person of your right hand,
and son of man you have made so strong for yourself.
And so will we never turn away from you;
give us life, that we may call upon your Name.
Restore us, O LORD God of hosts;
show the light of your countenance, and we shall be saved.
Dearest Lord, I am always worrying about things beyond my control. Make me not to anxious about earthly things, but to love things heavenly. Life is ephemeral and even now, while I am placed among things which are passing away, help me to dicern that which is really important -- my faith, my family, my friends -- and help me to hold fast to those that shall endure. Amen.