Youth’s Prayer

O Lord, make me to know the measure of my days. My feebleness, my frailty.  Thou dost know, Who formed me from the dust.  I am a tender flower, Fresh and flourishing, with youth’s bright dew aglow; Yet delicate am I.   When winds of time pass o’er The flower fades and fails and is no more. So shall it be for me.  O let me not forget As now I bloom in youth’s bright hour that youth is vanity. Its strength must fail, unless that strength be Thine. Its joys must vanish all, unless their...