Our days are wasted by thy anger,
Our years are spent as a breath.
The days of our years are threescore years and ten,
And if by reason of strength they be fourscore years,
Yet is their strength labour and sorrow;
For it is soon cut off and we flee away.
Who knoweth the power of thine anger
Which is terrible that thou mayest be feared?
So teach us to number our days,
That we may apply our hearts unto wisdom.