Poetry

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I will guard my ways not to sin,
Using my hands or with my tongue;
Guarding from corruption within,
Bridled mouth words not to be flung.

I am mute when evil’s presence,
I hold my peace to no avail;
My sorrow stirs from the silence,
Of the wickedness they entail.

My heart becomes hot within me,
I am mused as the fire burns;
For I speak out of what I see,
A rebuttal in my mind churns.

What is the measure of my days,
Let me know how fleeting I am;
Make me know my end of these ways,
I am feeling frail as a lamb.

You have made my days a measure,
My age is nothing before You;
Surely man stands as Your pleasure,
Bar the vanity they pursue.

Man goes about as a shadow,
Every man walks in a vain shew;
Some are like a crooked arrow,
Disquieted as they pursue.

Man heaps up wealth and does not know,
All the riches that they gather;
The short nature of life will show,
A legacy that will scatter.

Copyright © 2026 Richard Newton Sherrer

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