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Thou, Lord, through every changing scene,
Hast to thy saints a refuge been;
Through every age, eternal God,
Their pleasing home, their safe abode.
In thee our fathers sought their rest,
In thee our fathers still are blest;
And while the tomb confines their dust,
In thee their souls abide, and trust.
Lo, we are risen, a feeble race,
Awhile to fill our fathers’ place;
our helpless state with pity view,
And let us share their refuge too.
Through all the thorny paths we trace
In this uncertain wilderness,
When friends desert, and foes invade,
Revive out heart and guard our head.
So when this pilgimage is o’er,
And we must dwell in flesh no more,
To thee our separate souls shall come,
And find in thee a surer home.
To thee our infant race we leave;
Them may their fathers’ God receive;
That voices yet unformed may raise
Succeeding hymns of humble praise.
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marker 99
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LYRICS
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Meter:
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8 8 8 8 (L.M.)
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Writer(s):
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Trans/Adapted:
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Dates:
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Bible Refs:
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Ps 90;
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LIST OF LYRIC SOURCES
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Hymn/Song Book
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Year
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Song #
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| 1851 | # 169 |
echo ' | ';
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Hymn Writer
