Lord, thou hast been our refuge *
from one generation to another.
Before the mountains were brought forth, or ever the earth and the world were made *
thou art God from everlasting, and world without end.
Thou turnest man to destruction *
again thou sayest, Come again, ye children of men.
For a thousand years in thy sight are but as yesterday *
seeing that is past as a watch in the night.
As soon as thou scatterest them they are even as a sleep *
and fade away suddenly like the grass.
In the morning it is green, and groweth up *
but in the evening it is cut down, dried up, and withered.
For we consume away in thy displeasure *
and are afraid at thy wrathful indignation.
Thou hast set our misdeeds before thee *
and our secret sins in the light of thy countenance.
For when thou art angry all our days are gone *
we bring our years to an end, as it were a tale that is told.
The days of our age are threescore years and ten; and though men be so strong that they come to fourscore years *
yet is their strength then but labour and sorrow; so soon passeth it away, and we are gone.
But who regardeth the power of thy wrath *
for even thereafter as a man feareth, so is thy displeasure.
So teach us to number our days *
that we may apply our hearts unto wisdom.