1 Lord, what is man, poor feeble man,
Born of the earth at first?
His life a shadow, light and vain,
Still hast'ning to the dust.

2 O what is feeble, dying man,
Or any of his race,
That God should make it his concern
To visit him with grace!

3 That God who darts his lightnings down,
Who shakes the worlds above,
And mountains tremble at his frown,
How wond'rous is his love!