The wicked will disappear from the place where they used to live;

but later I passed by, and he wasn't there; I looked for him, but couldn't find him.

You bind chains on my feet; you watch every step I take, and even examine my footprints.

Will you even look at me, God, or put me on trial and judge me?

You punish our sins by your rebukes, and like a moth you destroy what we love. Indeed we are no more than a puff of wind!

You place our sins before you, our secret sins where you can see them.

Our life is cut short by your anger; it fades away like a whisper.