William Billings - Great God, how frail a thing is man - текст песни (слова)

Great God, how frail a thing is man,
 How swift his minutes pass,
 His age contracts within a span,
 He blooms and dies like grass.
 
 And must my moments thus decline,
 And must I sink to death,
 To thee my spirit I resign,
 Thou maker of my breath.