No. 2370, The Breath of Man (Poetry)

A poem on Psalm 39.

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I said, “I’ll guard my tongue from Sin
while Wickedness surrounds me in.”
I Held my peace—my Silence grew, —
but fire burned bright and words broke through:

“Lord, show me how Fleeting am I, —
a Shadow’s Breath beneath the sky.
You measure our days to be so small,
thus man is vanity all in all.”

Like Shadows rush, they Heap in Vain,
unknowing who will seize their Gain.
Therefore, my Hope is placed in You, —
my Refuge firm, my Anchor true.

Remove this Scourge—I am undone.
Beneath Your hand, my soul has spun.
You chasten Sin, consume our Pride,
as moth devours what we abide.

Hear now my cry—attend my tears;
I’m but a Stranger through these years, —
a Guest who walks this Fleeting stage,
a Traveler bound for brighter age.

O spare me, Lord, that I might see
some Joy before I cease to be.
And in Your Grace, I’ll walk my span, —
a Fleeting Breath, yet Held by Plan.