O Lord, make me know my end.
And what is the number of my days: * that I may know what is wanting to me.
Behold thou hast made my days measurable: * and my substance is as nothing before thee.
And indeed all things are vanity: * every man living.
Surely man passeth as an image: * yea, and he is disquieted in vain.
He storeth up: * and he knoweth not for whom he shall gather these things.
And now what is my hope? Is it not the Lord? * And my substance is with thee.
Deliver thou me from all my iniquities: * thou hast made me a reproach to the fool.
