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1 Short is the measure of our days,
Thou maker of our frame;
When we survey life's narrow space
We learn how low man's aim.
2 A span is all that we can boast,
An inch or two of time;
Man is but vanity and dust
In all his flower and prime.
3 What should we wish or wait for, then,
From creatures earth and dust?
To Thee they will not look in vain
Who put in Thee their trust.
4 Thou wilt Thy promise sure fulfil,
And bring life from above
All good establish, banish ill,
And manifest Thy love.
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Hymn list--green book