They send forth their children as a flock; their little ones dance about.
They sing to the music of timbrel and lyre; they make merry to the sound of the pipe.
They spend their years in prosperity and go down to the grave in peace.
Yet they say to God, ‘Leave us alone! We have no desire to know your ways.
Who is the Almighty, that we should serve him? What would we gain by praying to him?’
But their prosperity is not in their own hands, so I stand aloof from the plans of the wicked.
“Yet how often is the lamp of the wicked snuffed out? How often does calamity come upon them, the fate God allots in his anger?
How often are they like straw before the wind, like chaff swept away by a gale?
It is said, ‘God stores up the punishment of the wicked for their children.’ Let him repay the wicked, so that they themselves will experience it!
Let their own eyes see their destruction; let them drink the cup of the wrath of the Almighty.
For what do they care about the families they leave behind when their allotted months come to an end?