Lord, what a feeble piece
Is this our mortal frame!
Our life, how poor a trifle 'tis,
That scarce deserves the name!
Alas! 'twas brittle clay
That built our body first!
And every month and every day
'Tis mouldering back to dust.
Our moments fly apace,
Our feeble powers decay;
Swift as a flood our hasty days
Are sweeping us away.
Yet if our days must fly,
We'll keep their end in sight,
We'll spend them all in wisdom's ways,
And let them speed their flight.
They'll waft us sooner o'er
This life's tempestuous sea:
Soon shall we reach the peaceful shore,
Of blest eternity.
Source: The Southern Harmony, and Musical Companion (New ed. thoroughly rev. and much enl.) #154
|First Line:||Lord, what a feeble piece|
|Title:||The Frailty and Shortness of Life|
Lord, what a feeble piece. I. Watts. [Psalms xc.] His S.M. version of Psalms xc., which appeared in his Psalms of David, 1719, in 5 stanzas of 4 lines, and headed "The Frailty and Shortness of Life." In Martineau's Hymns, &c, 1840 and 1873, it is given as "Lord, what a fleeting breath"; and in the Leeds Hymn Book, 1853, as "Lord, make us know how frail."
--John Julian, Dictionary of Hymnology (1907)