Lord, you have been our refuge *
from one generation to another.
Before the mountains were brought forth, or the earth and the world were made, *
you are God from everlasting, and world without end.
You turn man back to the dust; *
you say, “Return, O children of men.”
For a thousand years in your sight are as yesterday, *
even as a day that is past.
You scatter them as a night-watch that comes quickly to an end; *
they are even as a dream and fade away.
They are like the grass, which in the morning is green, *
but in the evening is dried up and withered.
For we consume away in your displeasure *
and are afraid at your wrathful indignation.
You have set our misdeeds before you, *
and our secret sins in the light of your countenance.
For when you are angry, all our days are gone; *
we bring our years to an end, as a tale that is told.
The days of our life are seventy years, and though some be so strong that they come to eighty years, *
yet is their span but labor and sorrow; so soon it passes away, and we are gone.
But who regards the power of your wrath, *
and who considers the fierceness of your anger?
So teach us to number our days *
that we may apply our hearts unto wisdom.