O God, our help in ages past (William Croft)

From ChoralWiki
Revision as of 20:21, 15 December 2011 by EJG (talk | contribs) (expand on the text, and prepare to merge another edition into this page)
Jump to navigation Jump to search

Music files

L E G E N D Disclaimer How to download
ICON SOURCE
File details.gif File details
Question.gif Help


CPDL #20530:  Icon_pdf.gif
Editor: Tim Blickhan (submitted 2009-11-25).   Score information: Octavo, 13 pages, 313 kB   Copyright: Personal
Edition notes: Arranged for SATB, 3 trumpets, 2 trombones and organ. This edition published 1986.
Arranger: Tim Blickhan

General Information

Title: O God, our help in ages past
Composer: William Croft
Tune: St. Anne's, or Ann's
Lyricist: Isaac Watts

Number of voices: 4vv   Voicing: SATB

Genre: SacredHymn

Language: English
Published: 1708

Description: William Croft's tune St. Anne's was first published in 1708, in the 6th edition of A Supplement to the New Version of Psalms, as a setting of 'As pants the hart for cooling streams' (Psalm 42 in the metrical New Version). It was widely re-used with a number of texts before being republished with 'O God, our help in ages past' (Isaac Watts' paraphrase of Psalm 90) in The Psalm and Hymn Tunes, used at St Johns Chapel, Bedford Row, a collection compiled by Theophania Cecil, who was the organist at St. John's Chapel and the daughter of Richard Cecil, who was the minister there. It is now frequently sung with this text. Hymn Tune Index tune number 664.

External websites:

Original text and translations

English.png English text

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.

A thousand ages in thy 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 opening day.

O God, our help in ages past,
our hope for years to come,
be thou our guide while troubles last,
and our eternal home!