I am now eighty years old: good and bad are the same to me; have meat and drink any taste for me now? am I able to take pleasure in the voices of men or women in song? why then am I to be a trouble to my lord the king?
Now when I am old and grey-headed, O God, give me not up; till I have made clear your strength to this generation, and your power to all those to come.
The measure of our life is seventy years; and if through strength it may be eighty years, its pride is only trouble and sorrow, for it comes to an end and we are quickly gone.
Even when you are old I will be the same, and when you are grey-haired I will take care of you: I will still be responsible for what I made; yes, I will take you and keep you safe.
And for which I undergo these things: but I have no feeling of shame. For I have knowledge of him in whom I have faith, and I am certain that he is able to keep that which I have given into his care till that day.