Is not the measure of my days a mere hand's breadth? How short is the longest span of life! How many do not reach half that length!
And then, too, how frail is the human frame! Even the most healthy and robust, carry in them the seeds of decay! Their breath is in their nostrils, their heart at any moment may cease to beat.
How fearfully and wonderfully are we made! How mysterious is the circulation of the vital blood; how delicately arranged are the air-cells of the lungs; how finely strung are the nerves of sensation. On how many strings is the harmony of the human frame dependent!
"Strange that a harp of thousand strings, Should keep in tune so long!"
[Author Unknown]
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Psalm 39:4 ... Lord, make me to know mine end, and the measure of my days, what it is: that I may know how frail I am.
2 Corinthians 5:1 ... For we know that if our earthly house of this tabernacle were dissolved, we have a building of God, an house not made with hands, eternal in the heavens.
Psalm 90:12 ... So teach us to number our days, that we may apply our hearts unto wisdom.❤
