Eventide Blessing – O God, Our Help In Ages Past

Lord, You have been our dwelling place
through all generations.

Before the mountains were born
or You brought forth the earth and the world,
from everlasting to everlasting
You are God.

You return man to dust,
saying, “Return, O sons of mortals.”

For in Your sight a thousand years
are but a day that passes,
or a watch of the night.

You whisk them away in their sleep;
they are like the new grass of the morning—

in the morning it springs up new,
but by evening it fades and withers.

For we are consumed by Your anger
and terrified by Your wrath.

You have set our iniquities before You,
our secret sins in the light of Your presence.

For all our days decline in Your fury;
we finish our years with a sigh.

The length of our days is seventy years—
or eighty if we are strong—
yet their pride is but labor and sorrow,
for they quickly pass, and we fly away.

Who knows the power of Your anger?
Your wrath matches the fear You are due.

So teach us to number our days,
that we may present a heart of wisdom.

Return, O LORD! How long will it be?
Have compassion on Your servants.

Satisfy us in the morning with Your loving devotion,
that we may sing for joy and be glad all our days.

Make us glad for as many days as You have afflicted us,
for as many years as we have seen evil.

May Your work be shown to Your servants,
and Your splendor to their children.

May the favor of the Lord our God rest upon us;
establish for us the work of our hands—
yes, establish the work of our hands!

O 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 foll’wing years.

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

Like flow’ry fields the nations stand
Pleased with the morning light;
The flow’rs beneath the mower’s hand
Lie with’ring ere ’tis night.

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

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