Show me the number of my days
Alien time predominates
The landscape of my days
The hard swift passing of the years
Undoes my striving ways.
I feel its numb taste on my tongue:
My cold mortality;
How shall I measure these short days
I am a breath You breathed O Lord,
Let me not be a fool
To spend my hours heedlessly
And waste this precious jewel.
My life is Yours, my tongue is Yours,
Oh tune it to Your praise
That I might rest upon the love
That measures my brief days.