Lord, Thou hast been our dwelling place
Through all the ages of our race;
Before the mountains had their birth,
Or Thou hadst formed the earth;
From everlasting Thou art God,
To everlasting our abode.

Man soon yields up his fleeting breath
Before the swelling tide of death;
Like transient sleep his seasons pass,
His life is like the tender grass,
Luxuriant ’neath the morning sun
And withered ere the day is done.

Man in Thine anger is consumed,
And unto grief and sorrow doomed;
Before Thy clear and searching sight
Our secret sins are brought to light;
Beneath Thy wrath we pine and die,
Our life expiring like a sigh.

For threescore years and ten we wait,
Or fourscore years if strength be great;
But grief and toil attend life’s day,
And soon our spirits fly away;
O who with true and reverent thought
Can fear Thine anger as he ought?

O teach Thou us to count our days
And set our hearts on wisdom’s ways
Turn, Lord, to us in our distress
In pity now Thy servants bless;
Let mercy’s dawn dispel our night,
And all our day with joy be bright.

O send the day of joy and light,
For long has been our sorrow’s night;
Afflicted through the weary years,
We wait until Thy help appears;
In all Thy children Thou abide,
In us let God be glorified.

So let there be on us bestowed
The beauty of the Lord our God;
The work accomplished by our hand
Establish Thou, and make it stand;
Yea, let our hopeful labor be
Established evermore by Thee.

Lord, Thou hast been our dwelling place
In every generation;
Thy people still have known Thy grace,
And blessed Thy consolation;
Through every age Thou heard’st our cry;
Through every age we found Thee nigh,
Our Strength and our Salvation.

Our cleaving sins we oft have wept,
And oft Thy patience provèd;
But still Thy faith we fast have kept,
Thy Name we still have lovèd;
And Thou hast kept and loved us well,
Hast granted us in Thee to dwell,
Unshaken, unremovèd.

No, nothing from those arms of love
Shall Thine own people sever;
Our Helper never will remove,
Our God will fail us never.
Thy people, Lord, have dwelt in Thee,
Our dwelling place Thou still wilt be,
For ever and for ever.

Lord, through all the generations
Of the children of our race,
In our fears and tribulations,
Thou hast been our dwelling place.
Ere the vast and wide creation
By Thy word was caused to be,
Or the mountains held their station,
Thou art God eternally.

Each succeeding generation
At Thy mighty word appears;
Thou dost count in time’s duration
One day as a thousand years.
Death, with swift and sudden warning,
Calls us from life’s dream away,
Like the grass, green in the morning,
Withered ere the close of day.

Long the clouds of evil lower;
Bless us now with gladsome days;
Let Thy servants see Thy power,
Let their children learn Thy praise.
On us let the grace and beauty
Of the Lord our God remain,
Strengthen us for noble duty
That our work be not in vain.

Our God, our help in ages past,
Our hope for years to come,
Our shelter from the stormy blast,
And our eternal home.

Under the shadow of Thy throne
Thy saints have dwelt secure;
Sufficient is Thine arm alone,
And our defense is sure.

Before the hills in order stood,
Or earth received her frame,
From everlasting Thou art God,
To endless years the same.

Thy Word commands our flesh to dust,
“Return, ye sons of men:”
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 watch 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 the 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 ere ‘tis night.

Our God, our help in ages past,
Our hope for years to come,
Be Thou our guard while troubles last,
And our eternal home.

Ere mountains reared their forms sublime,
Or Heav’n and earth in order stood,
Before the birth of ancient time,
From everlasting Thou art God.

A thousand ages, in their flight,
With Thee are as a fleeting day;
Past, present, future, to Thy sight
At once their various scenes display.

But our brief life’s a shadowy dream,
A passing thought that soon is o’er,
That fades with morning’s earliest beam,
And fills the musing mind no more.

To us, O Lord, the wisdom give
Each passing moment so to spend,
That we at length with Thee may live
Where life and bliss shall never end.

Have mercy on us, God most high,
Who lift our hearts to Thee;
Have mercy on us worms of earth,
Most holy Trinity.

Most ancient of all mysteries!
Before Thy throne we lie;
Have mercy now, most Merciful,
Most holy Trinity.

When heaven and earth were yet unmade,
When time was yet unknown,
Thou, in Thy bliss and majesty,
Didst live and love alone.

Thou wert not born; there was no fount
From which Thy Being flowed;
There is no end which Thou canst reach;
But Thou art simply God.

How wonderful creation is,
The work that Thou didst bless;
And oh, what then must Thou be like,
Eternal Loveliness!

How beautiful the angels are,
The saints how bright in bliss;
But with Thy beauty, Lord, compared,
How dull, how poor is this.

O listen, then, most pitiful,
To Thy poor creature’s heart:
It blesses Thee that Thou art God;
That Thou art what Thou art.

Most ancient of all mysteries!
Still at Thy throne we lie;
Have mercy now, most Merciful,
Most holy Trinity.

Through every age, eternal God,
Thou art our rest, our safe abode;
High was Thy throne ere Heav’n was made,
Or earth Thy humble footstool laid.

Long hadst Thou reigned ere time began,
Or dust was fashioned to a man;
And long Thy kingdom shall endure
When earth and time shall be no more.

But man, weak man, is born to die,
Made up of guilt and vanity;
Thy dreadful sentence, Lord, was just,
Return, ye sinners, to your dust.

A thousand of our years amount
Scarce to a day in Thine account;
Like yesterday’s departed light,
Or the last watch of ending night.

Death, like an overflowing stream,
Sweeps us away; our life’s a dream,
An empty tale, a morning flower,
Cut down and withered in an hour.

Our age to seventy years is set;
How short the time! how frail the state!
And if to eighty we arrive,
We rather sigh and groan than live.

But O how oft Thy wrath appears,
And cuts off our expected years!
Thy wrath awakes our humble dread;
We fear the power that strikes us dead.

Teach us, O Lord, how frail is man;
And kindly lengthen out our span,
Till a wise care of piety
Fit us to die, and dwell with Thee.

Thou glorious God, before Whose face
The generations pass away,
As, to our eyes, the tender grace
And marvel of each shining day!

We thank Thee for the joy sublime
Of years so radiant with Thy power
That all the best of endless time
Seems granted to the fleeting hour.

We praise Thee for the surer right,
The clearer message from above,
The lengthening day, the shortening night,
The wiser ministries of love.

We bless Thee for the friends we miss,
Who made our peace, and stilled our pain;
We trust Thee on some height of bliss
To bring them close to us again.

We magnify Thy holy Name;
And while in Thee our hearts rejoice,
Strong be our wills, through praise and blame,
To do the bidding of Thy voice.

And am I only born to die?
And must I suddenly comply
With nature’s stern decree?
What after death for me remains?
Celestial joys, or hellish pains,
To all eternity?

How then ought I on earth to live,
While God prolongs the kind reprieve
And props the house of clay?
My sole concern, my single care,
To watch, and tremble, and prepare
Against the fatal day.

No room for mirth or trifling here,
For worldly hope, or worldly fear,
If life so soon is gone:
If now the Judge is at the door,
And all mankind must stand before
The inexorable throne!

No matter which my thoughts employ,
A moment’s misery, or joy;
But O! when both shall end,
Where shall I find my destined place?
Shall I my everlasting days
With fiends, or angels spend?

Nothing is worth a thought beneath
But how I may escape the death
That never, never dies;
How make mine own election sure,
And, when I fail on earth, secure
A mansion in the skies.

Jesus, vouchsafe a pitying ray,
Be Thou my guide, be Thou my way
To glorious happiness;
Ah, write the pardon on my heart,
And whensoe’er I hence depart,
Let me depart in peace.

And let this feeble body fail,
And let it droop and die;
My soul shall quit the mournful vale,
And soar to worlds on high;
Shall join the disembodied saints,
And find its long sought rest,
That only bliss for which it pants,
In my Redeemer’s breast.

In hope of that immortal crown
I now the cross sustain,
And gladly wander up and down,
And smile at toil and pain:
I suffer out my threescore years,
Till my Deliverer come,
And wipe away His servant’s tears,
And take His exile home.

O what hath Jesus bought for me!
Before my ravished eyes
Rivers of life divine I see,
And trees of paradise:
I see a world of spirits bright,
Who taste the pleasures there;
They all are robed in spotless white,
And conquering palms they bear.

O what are all my sufferings here,
If, Lord, Thou count me meet
With that enraptured host to appear,
And worship at Thy feet!
Give joy or grief, give ease or pain,
Take life or friends away,
But let me find them all again
In that eternal day.

All men living are but mortal,
Yea, all flesh must fade as grass;
Only through death’s gloomy portal
To eternal life we pass.
This frail body here must perish
Ere the heav’nly love joys it cherish,
Ere it gain the free reward
For the ransomed of the Lord.

Therefore, when my God doth choose it,
Willingly I’ll yield my life
Nor will grieve that I should lose it,
For with sorrows it was rife.
In my dear Redeemer’s merit
Peace hath found my troubled spirit,
And in death my comfort this:
Jesus’ death my source of bliss.

Jesus for my sake descended
My salvation to obtain;
Death and hell for me are ended,
Peace and hope are now my gain;
Yea, with joy I leave earth’s sadness
For the home of heav’nly gladness,
Where I shall forever see
God, the Holy Trinity.

There is joy beyond our telling,
Where so many saints have gone;
Thousands, thousands, there are dwelling,
Worshiping before the throne,
There the seraphim are shining,
Evermore in chorus joining:
“Holy, holy, holy Lord!
Triune God, for aye adored!”

Patriarchs of sacred story
And the prophets there are found;
The apostles, too, in glory
On twelve seats are there enthroned,
All the saints that have ascended
Age on age, through time extended,
There in blissful concert sing
Hallelujahs to their King.

O Jerusalem, how glorious
Dost thou shine, thou city fair!
Lo, I hear the tone victorious
Ever sweetly sounding there.
Oh, the bliss that there surprises!
Lo, the sun of morn now rises,
And the breaking day I see
That shall never end for me.

Yea, I see what here was told me,
See that wondrous glory shine,
Feel the spotless robes enfold me,
Know a golden crown is mine,
Thus before the throne so glorious
Now I stand a soul victorious,
Gazing on that joy for aye
That shall never pass away.