Ere mount­ains reared their forms sub­lime,
Or the fair 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
To ev­ery pre­cious hour to spend,
That we at length with Thee may live
Where life and bliss shall ne­ver end.