“Lord, make me to know my end,
And what is the measure of my days,
That I may know how frail I am.
Indeed, You have made my days as handbreadths,
And my age is as nothing before You;
Certainly every man at his best state is but vapor.
Surely every man passes like an image;
Surely they busy themselves in vain;
He heaps up riches,
And does not know who will gather them.