Lord, Thou hast been Thy people’s rest
Through every generation:
Their refuge sure when peril pressed,
Their hope in tribulation:
Thou, ere the mountains sprang to birth,
Or ever Thou hadst formed the earth,
Art God from ev­er­last­ing.

The sons of men return to clay
When Thou the word hast spoken,
As with a torrent swept away,
Gone like a vision broken.
A thousand years are in Thy sight
But as the passing hours of night,
Or yesterday departed.

Fair laugh the flowers, whose beauty new
The dews of morning cherish:
Pale evening comes; with fading hue
They hang their heads and perish.
So fade we in Thy righteous wrath:
Thine eyes behold our secret path,
Our deeds and thoughts of evil.

Soon, as a breath, the times are past
Of those who seem the strongest:
And if to seventy years they last,
Or fourscore, at the longest,
Life’s proudest strength is sorrow still.
Lord, who reveres Thy mighty will?
Who rightly dreads thy anger?

O teach us so to count our days
That we may prize them duly;
So guide our feet in wisdom’s ways
That we may love Thee truly:
Return, O Lord, our griefs behold,
And with Thy goodness, as of old,
O satisfy us early.

For long have been our days of pain,
And long our years of sadness:
To us display Thy grace again,
And to our sons Thy gladness;
O Lord our God, with favoring love
Shine forth; our handiwork approve,
And bless our daily labor.