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[For the choirmaster Of the sons of Korah Psalm] Hear this, all nations, listen, all who dwell on earth,
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people high and low, rich and poor alike!
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My lips have wisdom to utter, my heart good sense to whisper.
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I listen carefully to a proverb, I set my riddle to the music of the harp.
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Why should I be afraid in times of trouble? Malice dogs me and hems me in.
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They trust in their wealth, and boast of the profusion of their riches.
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But no one can ever redeem himself or pay his own ransom to God,
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the price for himself is too high; it can never be
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that he will live on for ever and avoid the sight of the abyss.
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For he will see the wise also die no less than the fool and the brute, and leave their wealth behind for others.
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For ever no home but their tombs, their dwelling-place age after age, though they gave their name to whole territories.
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In prosperity people lose their good sense, they become no better than dumb animals.
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So they go on in their self-assurance, right up to the end they are content with their lot. Pause
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They are penned in Sheol like sheep, Death will lead them to pasture, and those who are honest will rule over them. In the morning all trace of them will be gone, Sheol will be their home.
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But my soul God will ransom from the clutches of Sheol, and will snatch me up. Pause
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Do not be overawed when someone gets rich, and lives in ever greater splendour;
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when he dies he will take nothing with him, his wealth will not go down with him.
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Though he pampered himself while he lived -- and people praise you for looking after yourself-
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he will go to join the ranks of his ancestors, who will never again see the light.
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In prosperity people lose their good sense, they become no better than dumb animals.
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