The Psalms and Hymns of Isaac Watts ‎#Ps.194

Ps.194. Psalm 90

Lord, what a feeble piece
Is this our mortal frame!
Our life how poor a trifle 'tis,
That scarce deserves the name!

Alas, the brittle clay
That built our body first!
And every month, and every day,
'Tis mould'ring back to dust.

Our moments fly apace,
Nor will our minutes stay;
Just like a flood, our hasty days
Are sweeping us away.

Well, if our days must fly,
We'll keep their end in sight;
We'll spend them all in wisdom's way,
And let them speed their flight.

They'll waft us sooner o'er
This life's tempestuous sea;
Soon we shall reach the peaceful shore
Of blest eternity.

Text Information

• First Line: Lord, what a feeble piece
• Title: Psalm 90
• Author: Isaac Watts
• Meter: S. M.
• Language: English
• Publication Date: 1806
• Scripture:
  Psalm 90:5
  ;
  Psalm 90:10
  ;
  Psalm 90:12
• Topic: Funeral psalm; Man: his vanity as mortal; Mortality: of man; Saints: rewarded at last; Frailty: of man; Life: short and feeble; Psalm: for a funeral; Death: the effect of sin; God: eternal, and man mortal; Mortality: and God's eternity; Old age: death

Tune Information

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