Ere Mountains Reared Their Forms Sublime,
Or Heaven 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 Over,
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.