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!