Psalm 90
A Prayer of Moses, the man of God.
You've been refuge for us, and a dwelling;
throughout all generations, our home.
Before mountains were formed, or the earth had been born,
from beginning to end, God, alone.
You return man to dust just by saying,
O descendants of Adam, return!
For you, one thousand years — like a day disappears,
like a watch in the night that adjourns.
You sweep people away like mere visions.
They're like grass sprouting up every day:
morning blooms grass anew, freshly covered with dew,
but by evening, it's withered away.
You consume us with your rage and anger,
and your wrath makes us tremble with fright.
All the sins that we do have been placed before you,
and our secrets are shown in your light.
For our days have declined in your fury,
and we finish our years like a sigh.
We live threescore and ten — even fourscore, some men —
before giving up our strength to die.
Yet our years are but labor and sorrow,
till we fly and our glory is through.
Can the power be known of your anger you've shown?
Your wrath matches the fear you are due.
Teach us just how our days should be numbered,
give us wisdom our hearts would embrace.
O LORD, come back again! Will your wrath never end?
Show your servants compassion and grace.
Satisfy us at dawn with your mercy;
may we sing all our days and be glad.
Give us joyful, good days with our suffering ways,
give us good years along with the bad.
Let your wonders appear to your servants;
show your glory to their sons and clans.
Let your beauty shine down, let our works be renowned —
yes, establish the works of our hands.
You've been refuge for us, and a dwelling;
throughout all generations, our home.
Before mountains were formed, or the earth had been born,
from beginning to end, God, alone.
You return man to dust just by saying,
O descendants of Adam, return!
For you, one thousand years — like a day disappears,
like a watch in the night that adjourns.
You sweep people away like mere visions.
They're like grass sprouting up every day:
morning blooms grass anew, freshly covered with dew,
but by evening, it's withered away.
You consume us with your rage and anger,
and your wrath makes us tremble with fright.
All the sins that we do have been placed before you,
and our secrets are shown in your light.
For our days have declined in your fury,
and we finish our years like a sigh.
We live threescore and ten — even fourscore, some men —
before giving up our strength to die.
Yet our years are but labor and sorrow,
till we fly and our glory is through.
Can the power be known of your anger you've shown?
Your wrath matches the fear you are due.
Teach us just how our days should be numbered,
give us wisdom our hearts would embrace.
O LORD, come back again! Will your wrath never end?
Show your servants compassion and grace.
Satisfy us at dawn with your mercy;
may we sing all our days and be glad.
Give us joyful, good days with our suffering ways,
give us good years along with the bad.
Let your wonders appear to your servants;
show your glory to their sons and clans.
Let your beauty shine down, let our works be renowned —
yes, establish the works of our hands.
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