Begin, my tongue, some heavenly theme
And speak some boundless thing;
The mighty works, or mightier Name
Of our eternal King.

Tell of His wonderful faithfulness
And sound His power abroad;
Sing the sweet promise of His grace,
The love and truth of God.
[originally, And the performing God]

Proclaim "salvation from the Lord
For wretched, dying men";
His hand has writ the sacred Word
With an immortal pen.

Engraved as in eternal brass
The mighty promise shines;
Nor can the powers of darkness ‘rase
Those everlasting lines.

He that can dash whole worlds to death,
And make them when He please,
He speaks, and that almighty breath
Fulfils His great decrees.

His every word of grace is strong
As that which built the skies;
The voice that rolls the stars along
Speaks all the promises.

He said, "Let the wide heav'n be spread,"
And heav'n was stretched abroad:
"Abram, I'll be thy God," He said,
And He was Abram's God.

O might I hear Thy heavenly tongue
But whisper, "Thou art Mine!"
Those gentle words shall raise my song
To notes almost divine.

How would my leaping heart rejoice,
And think my heav'n secure!
I trust the all creating voice,
And faith desires no more.

Our God, our help in ages past,
Our hope for years to come,
Our shelter from the stormy blast,
And our eternal home.

Under the shadow of Thy throne
Thy saints have dwelt secure;
Sufficient is Thine arm alone,
And our defense is sure.

Before the hills in order stood,
Or earth received her frame,
From everlasting Thou art God,
To endless years the same.

Thy Word commands our flesh to dust,
"Return, ye sons of men:"
All nations rose from earth at first,
And turn to earth again.

A thousand ages in Thy sight
Are like an evening gone;
Short as the watch that ends the night
Before the rising sun.

The busy tribes of flesh and blood,
With all their lives and cares,
Are carried downwards by the flood,
And lost in following years.

Time, like an ever rolling stream,
Bears all its sons away;
They fly, forgotten, as a dream
Dies at the opening day.

Like flowery fields the nations stand
Pleased with the morning light;
The flowers beneath the mower's hand
Lie withering ere ‘tis night.

Our God, our help in ages past,
Our hope for years to come,
Be Thou our guard while troubles last,
And our eternal home.