Our God, our Help in Ages Past…

Encore Post: The reign of Anne, Queen of England, Scotland and Ireland, was a peaceful time for Isaac Watts and his fellow Reformed believers. Her Anglican policy of tolerance made her a very popular monarch. When she died, great anxiety spread. It was possible that the Catholic Stewart family would try to claim the throne, even after Lutheran Elector George of Hanover was crowned King George I. Only the passage of time calmed frayed nerves.

Isaac Watts was intent on improving the worship of Reformed congregations by paraphrasing Psalms so that Christians could sing the Psalms from the perspective of faith in Christ Jesus. He cast Psalm 90 as a collect for times of uncertainty. “Our God our Help in Ages Past” reminds us of what God has done for us in the past, especially by the suffering and death of Christ for our salvation, and what he will do for us in the future, when he returns in glory. The middle stanzas contrast the temporary nature of life in this world with the eternity of God, his promises and his love. The final stanza asks that God would guard us now and be our eternal place of rest.

One of the most beloved hymns in English hymnody, the song is popular for the opening of a school year, Remembrance Day in Canada and New Year’s Day in many churches. The tune most associated with it, St. Anne, imitates the tolling of bells as they mark the passage of time.

The original text is as follows:

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

2 Under the shadow of thy throne
Thy saints have dwelt secure;
Sufficient is thine arm alone,
And our defence is sure.

3 Before the hills in order stood,
Or earth receiv’d her frame,
From everlasting thou art God,
To endless years the same.

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

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

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

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

8 Like flowery fields the nations stand
Pleas’d with the morning light;
The flowers beneath the mower’s hand
Lie withering ere ’tis night.

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

©2018 Robert E. Smith. All rights reserved. Permission granted to copy, share and display freely for non-commercial purposes. Direct all other rights and permissions inquiries to cosmithb@gmail.com