Lord, let me know mine end and the number of my days
That I may be certified how long I have to live
Thou hast made my days as it were a span long;
And mine age is as nothing in respect of Thee
And verily, ev'ry man living is altogether vanity
For man walketh in a vain shadow
And disquieteth himself in vain
He heapeth up riches and cannot tell who shall gather them
And now, Lord, what is my hope?
Truly my hope is even in Thee
Deliver me from all mine offencеs
And make me not a rebukе to the foolish
I became dumb and opened not my mouth
For it was Thy doing
Take Thy plague away from me
I am even consumed by means of Thy heavy hand
When Thou with rebukes does chasten man for sin
Thou makest his beauty to consume away
Like as it were a moth fretting a garment;
Ev'ry man therefore is but vanity
Hear my pray'r, O Lord
And with Thy ears consider my calling
Hold not Thy peace at my tears!
For I am a stranger with Thee and a sojourner
As all my fathers were
O spare me a little, that I may recover my strength before I go hence
And be no more seen