So don’t return us to mud, saying, “Back to where you came from!” Patience! You’ve got all the time in the world—whether a thousand years or a day, it’s all the same to you. Are we no more to you than a wispy dream, no more than a blade of grass That springs up gloriously with the rising sun and is cut down without a second thought? Your anger is far and away too much for us; we’re at the end of our rope. You keep track of all our sins; every misdeed since we were children is entered in your books. All we can remember is that frown on your face. Is that all we’re ever going to get? We live for seventy years or so (with luck we might make it to eighty), And what do we have to show for it? Trouble. Toil and trouble and a marker in the graveyard. Who can make sense of such rage, such anger against the very ones who fear you?
Read Psalms 90
Listen to Psalms 90
Deildu
Bera saman útgáfur: Psalms 90:3-11
Vistaðu vers, lestu án nettengingar, horfðu á kennslumyndbönd og fleira!
YouVersion notar vafrakökur til að sérsníða upplifun þína. Með því að nota vefsíðu okkar samþykkir þú notkun okkar á vafrakökum eins og lýst er í persónuverndarstefnu okkar
Heim
Biblía
Áætlanir
Myndbönd