Vanity comes in many forms. Some are obvious — the fool's cap and bells, the party lifestyle, the endless entertainment, the drink and the dance. Everyone knows these are empty. They wear their emptiness like a badge.

But far more treacherous are the respectable vanities: the cares of this world and the deceitfulness of riches. A man can chase emptiness just as truly in the counting-house as in the theatre. If you spend your life amassing wealth, your days are just as vain as the fool's. Unless we follow Christ and make God the great object of life, we only differ in appearance from the most frivolous person alive.

Clearly we need both prayers from our text. "Turn away my eyes from worthless things" — yes! But also: "Quicken thou me in thy way." The psalmist confesses what we all feel — he is dull, heavy, lumpy, all but dead. Perhaps, dear reader, you feel the same. We are so sluggish that the best motives cannot quicken us, apart from the Lord himself.

What! Will not hell quicken me? Shall I think of sinners perishing, and yet not be awakened? Will not heaven quicken me? Can I think of the reward that awaits the righteous, and yet be cold? Will not death quicken me? Can I think of dying, and standing before my God, and yet be slothful in my Master's service? Will not Christ's love constrain me? Can I think of his dear wounds, can I sit at the foot of his cross, and not be stirred with fervency and zeal? It seems so!

No mere consideration can quicken us to zeal, but God himself must do it, hence the cry, "Quicken thou me." The psalmist breathes out his whole soul in vehement pleadings: his body and his soul unite in prayer. "Turn away mine eyes," says the body. "Quicken thou me," cries the soul.

This is a fit prayer for every day. O Lord, hear it in my case this night.