LORD, make me to know my end, and the measure of my days, what it is; that I may know how frail I am.
O that you would hide me in the grave, that you would keep me concealed, until your anger be past, that you would appoint me a set time, and remember me!
For he knows our frame; he remembers that we are dust.
How many are the days of your servant? when will you execute judgment on those who persecute me?
So teach us to number our days, that we may apply our hearts to wisdom.