Mortality, silence, and fragile hope

A bridle on the tongue, then a fire in the bones

The speaker resolved to guard his ways, that he might not sin with his tongue, to muzzle his mouth while the wicked were in his presence. He was mute and silent; he held his peace to no avail. His distress grew worse. His heart became hot; as he mused, the fire burned. Then he spoke.

LORD, make me know my end and the measure of my days; let me know how fleeting I am. Behold, you have made my days a few handbreadths, and my lifetime is as nothing before you. Surely all mankind stands as a mere breath. Restraint here is attempted, then it breaks into prayer. The psalm does not commend emotional suppression as a spiritual ideal.

A moth-eaten beauty, and a request to be spared before vanishing

Man goes about as a shadow; he heaps up wealth and does not know who will gather. And now, O Lord, for what do I wait? My hope is in you. Deliver me from all my transgressions. Do not make me the scorn of the fool. He is mute; he does not open his mouth, because God has done it. Remove your stroke; he is worn down by the blows of God's hand. When you discipline a man with rebukes for sin, you consume like a moth what is dear to him; surely all mankind is a mere breath.

Hear my prayer, O LORD, and give ear to my cry; hold not your peace at my tears. I am a sojourner with you, a guest like all my fathers. Look away from me, that I may smile again, before I depart and am no more. Fragile hope and protest share the last lines. Death-wish language is not a devotional model. The fleeting life is told to God, not performed as despair for others to admire, and not put on a recovery clock.