Under the shadow of Thy throne still may we dwell 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.
Time, like an ever rolling stream, bears all its sons away; they fly, forgotten, as a dream dies at the opening day.
O God, our help in ages past, our hope for years to come, be Thou our guide while life shall last, and our eternal home.
Isaac Watts 1674–1748