Psalm Ninety
Psalm 90 Domino, refugium
LORD, thou hast been our refuge, *
from one generation to another.
Before the mountains were brought forth,
or ever the earth and the world were made, *
thou art God from everlasting, and the world without end.
Thou turnest man to destruction; *
again thou sayest, Come again, ye children of men.
For a thousand years in thy sight are but as yesterday
when it is past, *
and as a watch in the night.
As soon as thou scatterest them they are even as a sleep, *
and fade away suddenly like the grass.
In the morning it is green, and groweth up; *
but in the evening it is cut down, dried up, and withered.
For we consume away in thy displeasure, *
and are afraid at thy wrathful indignation.
Thou hast set our misdeeds before thee, *
and our secret sins in the light of thy countenance.
LORD, thou hast been our refuge, *
from one generation to another.
Before the mountains were brought forth,
or ever the earth and the world were made, *
thou art God from everlasting, and the world without end.
Thou turnest man to destruction; *
again thou sayest, Come again, ye children of men.
For a thousand years in thy sight are but as yesterday
when it is past, *
and as a watch in the night.
As soon as thou scatterest them they are even as a sleep, *
and fade away suddenly like the grass.
In the morning it is green, and groweth up; *
but in the evening it is cut down, dried up, and withered.
For we consume away in thy displeasure, *
and are afraid at thy wrathful indignation.
Thou hast set our misdeeds before thee, *
and our secret sins in the light of thy countenance.
For when thou are angry all our days are gone; *
we bring our years to an end, as it were a tale that is told.
The days of our age are threescore years and ten;
and though men be so strong that thy come to fourscore years, *
yet is their strength then but labor and sorrow,
so soon passeth it away, and we are gone.
So teach us to number our days, *
that we may apply our hearts unto wisdom.
we bring our years to an end, as it were a tale that is told.
The days of our age are threescore years and ten;
and though men be so strong that thy come to fourscore years, *
yet is their strength then but labor and sorrow,
so soon passeth it away, and we are gone.
So teach us to number our days, *
that we may apply our hearts unto wisdom.
Psalm 90 is appointed for this morning in the Daily Office Lectionary. It also is among those suggested in the burial office for the gradual psalm between Old Testament and New Testament readings. My daughter Tass, who read at my father’s funeral in July 1993, read Psalm 90 at my mother’s funeral last Saturday, a week ago this morning. According to the Masoretic Text of the Hebrew Bible, it is a prayer of Moses, the man of God.
Psalm 90 is one of my favorites because it tells lyrically about human life as it always has been, is in our time, and always will be. Lyrically and perhaps almost fatalistically. Life is like a watch in the night. This rings a bell with me, having served in Navy warships. A watch in the night, and it is done, served.
The psalm reminds us that we are allotted seventy years. When my grandfather was born, his life expectancy was 49 years. At my birth in 1935 my life expectancy was 61 years. Depending on race and sex, a child born today has a life expectancy of about 80 years.
But in Moses’ time, it was seventy years, the psalm says; and if we live to eighty years life gets very hard, “labor and sorrow” it says, and then it passes away, “and we are gone.” Longevity is different for each person, isn’t it. My mother was ninety-nine. Her father was ninety, her mother almost 98. A sister lived to ninety, another sister turned ninety recently. My grandfather Weller used to observe that at ninety-two he had outlived any of his siblings.
If personal health holds up, and if family longevity is extensive, living to a hundred isn’t all that unusual these days, is it. In a future generation it may be the norm, a hundred may be the new seventy. For now, seventy is fine, or even eighty -- though the psalm says eighty is a lot of trouble.
In the meantime, says the psalm, be thankful for each day. Thankful, and be sensible about how we use it.
That’s what +Time is to me. And every day is beautiful.
Shalom
TW+