Psalm 90:7–11

For we are brought to an end by your anger;

by your wrath we are dismayed.

You have set our iniquities before you,

our secret sins in the light of your presence.

For all our days pass away under your wrath;

we bring our years to an end like a sigh.

The years of our life are seventy,

or even by reason of strength eighty;

yet their span is but toil and trouble;

they are soon gone, and we fly away.

Who considers the power of your anger,

and your wrath according to the fear of you?

For we are consumed by your anger;

we are terrified by your wrath.

You have set our iniquities before you,

our secret sins in the light of your presence.

For all our days ebb away under your wrath;

we end our years like a sigh.

Our lives last seventy years

or, if we are strong, eighty years.

Even the best of them are struggle and sorrow;

indeed, they pass quickly and we fly away.

Who understands the power of your anger?

Your wrath matches the fear that is due you.

We wither beneath your anger;

we are overwhelmed by your fury.

You spread out our sins before you—

our secret sins—and you see them all.

We live our lives beneath your wrath,

ending our years with a groan.

Seventy years are given to us!

Some even live to eighty.

But even the best years are filled with pain and trouble;

soon they disappear, and we fly away.

Who can comprehend the power of your anger?

Your wrath is as awesome as the fear you deserve.

For we are brought to an end by your anger,

and we hasten off by your wrath.

You have put our iniquities before you,

our hidden sins into the light of your countenance.

For all of our days dwindle away in your rage;

we complete our years like a sigh.

As for the days of our years, within them are seventy years

or if by strength eighty years, and their pride is trouble and disaster,

for it passes quickly and we fly away.

Who knows the strength of your anger,

and your rage consistent with the fear due you?

For we are consumed by thine anger,

And by thy wrath are we troubled.

Thou hast set our iniquities before thee,

Our secret sins in the light of thy countenance.

For all our days are passed away in thy wrath:

We spend our years as a tale that is told.

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 fly away.

Who knoweth the power of thine anger?

Even according to thy fear, so is thy wrath.