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 asleep: 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.
O teach us to number our days: that we may apply our hearts unto wisdom.
Turn thee again, O Lord, at the last: and be gracious unto thy servants.