My End, Lord, Make Me Know

My end

Lord

make me know

My days

how soon they fail;

And to my thought­ful spir­it show

How weak I am and frail.

To Thy eter­nal thought

My days are but a span;

To Thee my years ap­pear as naught

A breath at best is man.

O Lord

re­gard my fears

And an­swer my re­quest;

Turn not in si­lence from my tears

But give the mourn­er rest.

I am a strang­er here

Dependent on Thy grace

A pil­grim

as my fa­thers were

With no ab­id­ing place.