They are like a dream when one awakes; when you arise, Lord, you will despise them as fantasies.
Like a dream he flies away, no more to be found, banished like a vision of the night.
“Surely everyone goes around like a mere phantom; in vain they rush about, heaping up wealth without knowing whose it will finally be.
Arise, Lord, in your anger; rise up against the rage of my enemies. Awake, my God; decree justice.
Then the Lord awoke as from sleep, as a warrior wakes from the stupor of wine.
Yet you sweep people away in the sleep of death— they are like the new grass of the morning: