Lord! in the un­be­gin­ning years,
Whose course is wrapped in track­less night,
Ere Thou hadst launched the hea­ven­ly spheres,
Or waked this wan­der­ing world to light;
What were Thy words, Thy works, and how
Didst Thou Thy glo­ri­ous march record?
For Thou wert great and good, as now,
Of love the source, of light the Lord.

And in the un­end­ing ag­es, far
Beyond the ut­most reach of mind,
When all that is, and all that are,
Shall leave not e’en a wreck be­hind:
Oh! what shall be Thy bright ca­reer,
Lord of the eter­nal, change­less will?
Thou will be there su­preme, as here—
All wise, all good, al­migh­ty still!

Yes! shroud­ed in the mys­te­ry,
The past, the fu­ture’s dark ab­yss,
Bright clouds of splen­dor cir­cle Thee,
And light Thy path from bliss to bliss.
This is our faith, our hope, our trust,
Through thought’s im­mea­sur­able range,
Time is a dream, and man is dust—
But Thou—but Thou canst ne­ver change!