Isaac Watts(1674–1748)
Our God, Our Help
O u r G o d , our help in ages past,
O u r hope for years to c o m e ,
O u r shelter f r o m the stormy blast,
And our eternal home:
U n d e r the shadow of thy throne
Thy saints have dwelt secure;
Sufficient is thine arm alone,
And our d e f e n s e is sure.
B e f o r e the hills in order stood
Or earth received her frame, 0shape, structure
F r o m everlasting thou art G o d ,
To endless years the same.
Thy word c o m m a n d s our flesh to dust,
"Return, ye sons of men;8
All nations rose from earth at first,
And turn to earth again.
A thousand ages in thy sight
Are like an evening gone;
Short as the watch9 that ends the night
Before the rising sun.
The busy tribes of flesh and blood,
With all their lives and cares,
Are carried downwards by thy flood,
And lost in following years.
Time, like an ever-rolling stream,
Bears all its sons away;
They fly forgotten, as a dream
Dies at the opening day.
Like flowery fields the nations stand,
Pleased with the morning light;
The flowers beneath the mower's hand
Lie withering e'er 'tis night.
O u r G o d , our help in ages past,
O u r hope for years to c o m e ,
Be thou our guard while troubles last,
And our eternal home: