Sunday's hymn
O God, Our Help in Ages Past
Happy Sunday, friends.
It is biting cold here - “feels like -2” is what my weather app says. So, I’m spending a considerable amount of time this morning getting children bundled up before we set off to traverse the 8 inches of “snowcrete” to make our way to church!
Today is Septuagesima. One of the three Sundays prior to the beginning of the Lenten season (which starts on Ash Wednesday) It’s meant to be a day where we consider the rigors of what is in front of us (Lent is a time of reflection, devotion, and fasting) and prayerfully consider our heart’s condition.
I thought the following hymn was appropriate for the coming days. I hope you enjoy it.
A little side note: Isaac Watts, often referred to as the "Godfather of English Hymnody,” wrote over 750 hymns, including "When I Survey the Wondrous Cross" and "Joy to the World." I’ve shared some of his hymns on Sundays past! He also wrote the following:
O God, Our Help in Ages Past
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 your throne
Your saints have dwelt secure;
Sufficient is your arm alone,
And our defense is sure.
Before the hills in order stood
Or Earth received her frame,
From everlasting you are God,
To endless years the same.
A thousand ages in your sight
Are like an evening gone,
Short as the watch that ends the night
Before the rising sun.
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.
Our God, our help in ages past,
Our hope for years to come,
Be thou our guard while troubles last
And our eternal home.
The earliest surviving monument to Watts is in Westminster Abbey, completed shortly after his death. His much-visited chest tomb at Bunhill Fields dates from 1808, replacing the original, paid for and erected by Lady Mary Abney and the Hartopp family.
The words are beautiful!
Another one I know! I love that our brains do that!