With firm resolve I held my peace
And spake not either bad or good,
Lest I should utter sinful thoughts
While wicked men before me stood.

While I was dumb my grief was stirred,
My heart grew hot with thought suppressed;
The while I mused the fire increased,
Then to the Lord I made request.

Make me, O Lord, to know my end,
Teach me the measure of my days,
That I may know how frail I am
And turn from pride and sinful ways.

My time is nothing in Thy sight,
Behold, my days are but a span;
Yea, truly, at his best estate,
A breath, a fleeting breath, is man.

Man’s life is passed in vain desire
If troubled years be spent for gain;
He knows not whose his wealth shall be,
And all his toil is but in vain.

And now, O Lord, what wait I for?
I have no hope except in Thee;
Let not ungodly men reproach,
From all transgressions set me free.

Because Thou didst it I was dumb,
I spoke no word of rash complaint;
Remove Thy stroke away from me,
Beneath Thy chastisement I faint.

When Thou for his iniquity
Rebukest and correctest man,
His beauty is consumed away;
How weak his strength, how vain his plan.

Lord, hear my prayer, regard my cry;
I weep; be Thou my Comforter.
I am a stranger here below,
A pilgrim as my fathers were.

O spare me, Lord, avert Thy wrath,
Deal gently with me, I implore,
That I may yet recover strength
Ere I go hence and be no more.

Almighty Maker of my frame!
Teach me the measure of my days,
Teach me to know how frail I am,
And spend the remnant in Thy praise.

My days are shorter than a span,
A little point my life appears;
How frail at best is dying man!
How vain are all his hopes and fears!

Vain his ambition, noise and show;
Vain are the cares which rack his mind;
He heaps up treasures mixed with woe,
And dies and leaves them all behind.

O be a nobler portion mine!
My God, I bow before Thy throne;
Earth’s fleeting treasures I resign,
And fix my hope on Thee alone.

Teach me the measure of my days,
Thou Maker of my frame;
I would survey life’s narrow space,
And learn how frail I am.

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.

See the vain race of mortals move
Like shadows o’er the plain;
They rage and strive, desire and love,
But all the noise is vain.

Some walk in honor’s gaudy show,
Some dig for golden ore;
They toil for heirs, they know not who,
And straight are seen no more.

What should I wish or wait for, then,
From creatures earth and dust?
They make our expectations vain,
And disappoint our trust.

Now I forbid my carnal hope,
My fond desires recall;
I give my mortal interest up,
And make my God my all.

Another year completed,
The day comes round once more
Which with our patron’s radiance
Is bright as heretofore.
Now, strong in hope, united
His festival we greet;
He will present our troubles
Before the mercy-seat.

The Scriptures tell how Moses
Did for the people pray,
Appeased the Judge eternal,
And turned His wrath away;
Elijah’s prayer had power,
To close and open Heav’n;
Such saints as were aforetime,
Such saints to us are giv’n.

O saint of God, belovèd,
And placed on His right hand,
Thy prayers be like a rampart
As ’gainst the foe we stand;
For Abraham’s God is thy God,
And Isaac’s God is thine,
Thine is the God of Jacob,
The Lord of power benign.

For forty years His Israel
He fed with angels’ food;
The flinty rock He opened
The streams of water flowed.
Entreat that Christ His people
May lead to victory:
The God of Joshua’s triumph
The Lord thy God is He.

Sweeter sounds than music knows
Charm me, in Emmanuel’s Name;
All her hopes my spirit owes
To His birth, and cross, and shame.

When He came the angels sang
“Glory be to God on high,”
Lord, unloose my stammering tongue,
Who should louder sing than I.

Did the Lord a man become
That He might the law fulfill,
Bleed and suffer in my room,
And canst thou, my tongue, be still?

No, I must my praises bring,
Though they worthless are, and weak;
For should I refuse to sing
Sure the very stones would speak.

O my Savior, Shield, and Sun,
Shepherd, Brother, Husband, Friend,
Every precious name in one;
I will love Thee without end.

Thou only Sovereign of my heart,
My Refuge, my almighty Friend—
And can my soul from Thee depart,
On Whom alone my hopes depend?

Whither, ah whither shall I go,
A wretched wanderer from my Lord?
Can this dark world of sin and woe
One glimpse of happiness afford?

Eternal life Thy words impart;
On these my fainting spirit lives;
Here sweeter comforts cheer my heart
Than all the round of nature gives.

Let earth’s alluring joys combine,
While Thou art near, in vain they call;
One smile, one blissful smile of Thine,
My dearest Lord, outweighs them all.

The year is gone, beyond recall,
With all its hopes and fears,
With all its bright and gladdening smiles,
With all its mourners’ tears.

Thy thankful people praise Thee, Lord,
For countless gifts received;
And pray for grace to keep the faith
Which saints of old believed.

To Thee we come, O gracious Lord,
The newborn year to bless;
Defend our land from pestilence,
Give peace and plenteousness.

Forgive this nation’s many sins,
The growth of vice restrain;
And help us all with sin to strive,
And crowns of life to gain.

From evil deeds that stain the past
We now desire to flee;
And pray that future years may all
Be spent, good Lord, for Thee.

O Father, let Thy watchful eye
Still look on us in love,
That we may praise Thee, year by year,
With angel hosts above.

All glory to the Father be,
All glory to the Son,
All glory, Holy Ghost, to Thee,
While endless ages run.

By Thy birth and by Thy tears,
By Thy human griefs and fears,
By Thy conflict in the hour
Of the subtle tempter’s power;
Savior, look with pitying eye;
Savior, help me, or I die.

By the tenderness that wept
O’er the grave where Lazarus slept;
By the bitter tears that flowed
Over Salem’ s lost abode,
Savior, look with pitying eye;
Savior, help me, or I die.

By Thy lonely hour of prayer,
By Thy fearful conflict there,
By Thy cross and dying cries,
By the one great sacrifice;
Savior, look with pitying eye;
Savior, help me, or I die.

By Thy triumph o’er the grave,
By Thy power the lost to save,
By Thy high, majestic throne,
By the empire all Thine own;
Savior, look with pitying eye;
Savior, help me, or I die.

O heav’nly Father, hear my supplication,
I bow before Thee in Thy congregation;
Humble and needy, seeking Thy salvation,
Hear Thou my prayer, O God!

Draw me, Redeemer, I would seek Thee solely,
Help me to cherish, love, obey Thee wholly,
Fully surrendered, live a life that’s holy,
Hear Thou my prayer, O God!

Dwell Thou, O Savior, in my heart forever,
Thou who hast promised nothing shall us sever,
Comfort and lead me, I would leave Thee never,
Hear Thou my prayer, O God.

O my Savior, hear me,
Draw me close to Thee;
Thou hast paid my ransom,
Thou hast died for me;
Now by simple faith I claim
Pardon through Thy gracious Name;
Thou, my Ark of safety,
Let me fly to Thee.

O my Savior, bless me,
Bless me while I pray;
Grant Thy peace to help me,
Take my fear away;
I believe Thy promise, Lord;
I will trust Thy holy Word;
Thou, my soul’s Redeemer,
Bless me while I pray.

O my Savior, love me,
Make me all Thine own;
Leave me not to wander
In this world alone;
Bless my way with light divine,
Let Thy glory round me shine;
Thou, my Rock, my Refuge,
Make me all Thine own.

O my Savior, guard me,
Keep me evermore!
Bless me, love me, guide me,
Till my work is o’er;
May I then, with glad surprise,
Chant Thy praise beyond the skies;
There with Thee, my Savior,
Dwell for evermore.

Savior, when in dust to Thee
Low we bow the adoring knee,
When, repentant, to the skies
Scarce we lift our weeping eyes,
O by all the pains and woes
Suffered once for man below,
Bending from Thy throne on high,
Hear our solemn litany.

By Thy helpless infant years,
By Thy life of want and tears,
By Thy days of sore distress
In the savage wilderness,
By the dread mysterious hour
Of the insulting tempter’s power,
Turn, O turn a favoring eye,
Hear our solemn litany.

By the sacred griefs that wept
O’er the grave where Lazarus slept,
By the boding tears that flowed
Over Salem’s loved abode,
By the anguished sigh that told
Treachery lurked within Thy fold,
From Thy seat above the sky,
Hear our solemn litany.

By Thine hour of dire despair,
By Thine agony of prayer,
By the cross, the nail, the thorn,
Piercing spear, and torturing scorn,
By the gloom that veiled the skies
O’er the dreadful sacrifice,
Listen to our humble cry,
Hear our solemn litany.

By Thy deep expiring groan,
By the sad sepulchral stone,
By the vault whose dark abode
Held in vain the rising God,
O from earth to heaven restored,
Mighty, re-ascended Lord,
Listen, listen to the cry
Of our solemn litany.

Not my brother, nor my sister, but it’s me, O Lord,
Standin’ in the need of prayer;
Not my brother, nor my sister, but it’s me, O Lord,
Standin’ in the need of prayer.

Refrain

It’s me, it’s me, O Lord,
Standin’ in the need of prayer;
It’s me, it’s me, O Lord,
Standin’ in the need of prayer.

Not the preacher, nor the deacon, but it’s me, O Lord,
Standin’ in the need of prayer;
Not the preacher, nor the deacon, but it’s me, O Lord,
Standin’ in the need of prayer.

Refrain

Not my father, nor my mother, but it’s me, O Lord,
Standin’ in the need of prayer;
Not my father, nor my mother, but it’s me, O Lord,
Standin’ in the need of prayer.

Refrain

Not the stranger, nor my neighbor, but it’s me, O Lord,
Standin’ in the need of prayer;
Not the stranger, nor my neighbor, but it’s me, O Lord,
Standin’ in the need of prayer.

Refrain