[ Teach me the measure of my days.]

Watts Psalm 39 pt 2

1 YNSEE dou towse my laghyn giare,
Uss my Er-croo graysoil;
Baillym goaill tastey jeu ny share,
Cha siyragh as t’ad goll.

2 She lhiurid reaish ta er nyn son,
Cha glare shen ta nyn draa;
Ta doinney eisht fardail as joan,
Ayns ‘aalid as e vlaa.

3 Jeeagh er sheelnaue, son red neu.feeu,
‘Sy choan shoh wass rouail;
Tooilleil as boirey, geam as streeu,
As t’ooilley’n sheean fardail.

4 Paart geearree ooashley seihitagh, ta
Paart elley berchys reih,
Cour eiraghyn gyn fys quoi da,
Ad hene dy leah goit veih.

5 Cree er neem’s soiagh eisht m’imnea,
Yn seihll, ny cooney sleih?
Yn jerkal ain t’ad giarey jeh,
As molley shin dy treih.

6 ‘Sy theihll cha jeanin cur my hreisht,
Ny soiagh’ er my chree;
Agh cur my yerkal seihtagh seose,
As credjal ayns my Yee.

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.