1 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 mix'd 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.