The Days of Our Age - Chris De Burgh

The days of our age are threescore years and ten

And though men be so strong that they come

To fourscore years yet is their strength then

But labor and sorrow so soon passeth it away

And we are gone

And as for me my feet are almost gone

My treadings are well nigh slipped

But let not the waterflood drown me

Neither let the deep swallow me up;

So going through the vale of misery

I shall use it for a well

Till the pools are filled with water

For thou hast made the north and the south

Tabor and Hermon shall rejoice in thy name