O Lord, the Savior and Defense

O Lord

the Sav­ior and de­fense

Of us Thy chos­en race

From age to age Thou still hast been

Our sure abid­ing place.

Before Thou brought’st the mount­ains forth

Or th’earth and world didst frame

Thou al­ways wert the migh­ty God

And ev­er art the same.

Thou turn­est man

O Lord

to dust

Of which he first was made;

And when Thou speak’st the word

Re­turn

’Tis in­stant­ly ob­eyed.

For in Thy sight

a thou­sand years

Are like a day that’s past

Or like a watch in dead of night

Whose hours un­mind­ed waste.

Thou sweep’st us off as with a flood

We van­ish hence like dreams;

At first we grow like grass that feels

The sun’s re­viv­ing beams:

But how­so­ev­er fresh and fair

Its morn­ing beau­ty shows;

’Tis all cut down and wi­thered quite

Before the ev­en­ing close.

We by Thine an­ger are con­sumed

And by Thy wrath dis­mayed;

Our pub­lic crimes and sec­ret sins

Before Thy sight are laid.

Beneath Thy an­ger’s sad ef­fects

Our droop­ing days we spend;

Our un­re­gard­ed years break off

Like tales that quick­ly end.

Our term of time is se­ven­ty years

An age that few sur­vive;

But if

with more than com­mon strength

To eigh­ty we ar­rive;

Yet then our boast­ed strength de­cays

To sor­row turned and pain;

So soon the slen­der thread is cut

And we no more re­main.

But who Thy an­ger’s dread ef­fects

Does

as he ought

rev­ere?

And yet Thy wrath does fall or rise

As more or less we fear.

So teach us

Lord

th’un­cer­tain sum

Of our short days to mind

That to true wis­dom all our hearts

May ev­er be in­clined.

O to Thy serv­ants

Lord

re­turn

And speed­ily re­lent!

As we of our mis­deeds

do Thou

Of our just doom re­pent.

To sa­tis­fy and cheer our souls

Thy ear­ly mer­cy send;

That we may all our days to come

In joy and com­fort spend.

Let hap­py times with large amends

Dry up our for­mer tears

Or eq­ual at the least the term

Of our af­flict­ed years.

To all Thy serv­ants

Lord

let this

Thy won­drous work be known

And to our off­spring yet un­born

Thy glo­ri­ous pow­er be shown.

Let Thy bright rays up­on us shine

Give Thou our work suc­cess;

The glo­ri­ous work we have in hand

Do Thou vouch­safe to bless.