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 when it is past, *
and 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; *
we 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 labor and sorrow, so soon passeth it away, and we are gone.
So teach us to number our days *
that we may apply our hearts unto wisdom.