Lord, You have been our dwelling through all ages, Before the hills were born beneath the sky. From everlasting into everlasting, You are God while generations pass. You turn humanity again to dust, And a thousand years are like a yesterday. We are carried off like sleep before the morning, Grass that blooms, then withers in a day. Teach us to number our days, That our hearts may learn wisdom. Return, O Lord; satisfy us early With the mercy that makes us glad. Our secret sins are open in Your presence; Our years finish like a whispered tale. Seventy years, or eighty through great strength, Still their pride is labor, grief, and flight. Let Your beauty rest upon Your servants. Establish the work of our hands.