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For all our days pass away,
Passing away under His wrath;
As our years we go astray,
As the end crosses our path.
The years of life are seventy,
The span is toil and trouble;
By reason of strength like eighty,
Being buried under rubble.
They are soon gone and fly away,
Who considers might of His wrath;
According, the fear to obey,
Rather than a defiant laugh.
We need to number our days,
Getting wisdom in our heart;
With a heart and mind that obeys,
Of His Word for us to impart.
For how long until His return,
Taking pity on His servant;
With repentance for us to learn,
A desire that is fervent.
Satisfy us with steadfast love,
That we may rejoice and be glad;
As the blessings flow from above,
And no longer will we be sad.
Make us glad for as many days,
As the Lord has afflicted us;
For many years evil always,
Misguided our path as thus.
Let His work appear unto all,
His glory unto each child;
So that they do not start to fall,
And become chesty and wild.
Let the favor of our Lord,
Establish work of our hands;
That is to be in one accord,
In the manner that God commands.
Copyright © 2021 Richard Newton Sherrer
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The Man of God
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