Classic Poem

I SAID , I will my ways observe,
Lest I should swerve:
With bit and reins my tongue keep in,
Too prone to sin.
Nor to their calumny reply,
Who glory in impiety.

I like a statue silent stood,
Dumb ev'n to good:
My sorrows boiling in my breast
Exil'd my rest:
But when my heart, incens'd with wrong,
Grew hot, I gave my grief a tongue.

Of those few days I have to spend,
And my last end.
Inform me, Lord, that I may so.
My frailty know.
My time is made short as a span,
As nothing is the age of man.

Man nothing is but vanity,
Though thron'd on high;
Walks like a shadow, and in vain
Turmoils with pain:
He heaps up wealth with wretched care,
Yet knows not who shall prove his heir.

Lord, what expect I? Thou the scope
Of all my hope.
Him from his loath'd transgressions free,
Who trusts in Thee:
Nor, O, subject me to the rule
And proud derision of a fool!

With silence, since Thy will was such,
I suffer'd much:
O now forbear, lest instant death
Force my faint breath.
When Thou dost with Thy rod chastise
Offending man, his courage dies.

His beauty wasted like a cloth
Gnawn by the moth:
Himself a short-liv'd vanity,
And born to die.
Lord, to my pray'rs incline Thine ear,
And Thy afflicted servant hear.

Nor these salt rivers of mine eyes,
My God, despise;
A stranger as my fathers were,
I sojourn here;
O let me gather strength before
I pass away and be no more.