65 lines
3.2 KiB
HTML
65 lines
3.2 KiB
HTML
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<title>BLB Hymns</title>
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<h2>OUR GOD, OUR HELP IN AGES PAST</h2>
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<h2>(O God, Our Help in Ages Past)</h2>
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<p align="center"><h3>“Lord, You have been our dwelling place throughout all generations.” Psalm 90:1</h3></p>
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<center><b>Hymns Supplied Through the Gracious Generosity<br>of the </b><a href="http://www.hymntime.com/tch/" target = "_blank"><b>Cyber Hymnal Website</b></a><br><br><a href="./hymns/hymns_html/cyberhymnal_info.html" target = "_blank">Information about Cyber Hymnal Website</a></center>
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<div align="center">
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<center>
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<table>
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<tr>
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<td><img src="./hymns/hymns_img/img_w_a_watts_i.jpg" alt="Isaac Watts (1674-1748)" width="132.666666666667" height="184.666666666667"></td>
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<td><em>Words:</em> <a href="./hymns/hymns_bio/bio_w_a_watts_i.html" target="_blank">Isaac Watts</a>, <em>The Psalms of David</em>, 1719.
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<p><em>Music:</em> “St. Anne,” <a href="./hymns/hymns_bio/bio_c_r_croft_w.html" target="_blank">William Croft</a>, 1708 </p><p><table><tr><td><a href="./hymns/hymns_mid/mid_s_t_stanne.mid" target = "_blank"><img border=0 src="./hymns/hymns_img/notes.gif"><br><b>Play MIDI</b></a></td><td> </td><td><a href="./hymns/hymns_html/score_info.html" target = "_blank"><b>Link to obtain<br>musical score info</b></a></td></tr></table></p>
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<p>This hymn was sung at the funeral of former British prime minister Winston Churchill in St. Paul’s Cathedral, London, 1965.</td>
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<td><img src="./hymns/hymns_img/img_c_r_croft_w.jpg" alt="William Croft (1678-1727)" width="122.666666666667" height="160"></td>
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</tr>
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</table>
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</center>
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<div class="lyrics">
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<p>Our God, our help in ages past,<br>
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Our hope for years to come,<br>
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Our shelter from the stormy blast,<br>
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And our eternal home.</p>
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<p>Under the shadow of Thy throne<br>
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Thy saints have dwelt secure;<br>
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Sufficient is Thine arm alone,<br>
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And our defense is sure.</p>
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<p>Before the hills in order stood,<br>
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Or earth received her frame,<br>
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From everlasting Thou art God,<br>
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To endless years the same.</p>
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<p>Thy Word commands our flesh to dust,<br>
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“Return, ye sons of men:”<br>
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All nations rose from earth at first,<br>
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And turn to earth again.</p>
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<p>A thousand ages in Thy sight<br>
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Are like an evening gone;<br>
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Short as the watch that ends the night<br>
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Before the rising sun.</p>
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<p>The busy tribes of flesh and blood,<br>
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With all their lives and cares,<br>
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Are carried downwards by the flood,<br>
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And lost in following years.</p>
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<p>Time, like an ever rolling stream,<br>
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Bears all its sons away;<br>
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They fly, forgotten, as a dream<br>
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Dies at the opening day.</p>
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<p>Like flowery fields the nations stand<br>
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Pleased with the morning light;<br>
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The flowers beneath the mower’s hand<br>
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Lie withering ere ‘tis night.</p>
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<p>Our God, our help in ages past,<br>
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Our hope for years to come,<br>
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Be Thou our guard while troubles last,<br>
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And our eternal home.</p>
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</div>
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<hr>
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