Ar Dia, ar taic san àm a dh'fhalbh
O God, our Help in Ages Past

Ar Dia, ar taic san àm a dh'fhalbh,
ar dòchas anns gach linn,
ar fasgadh bho gach oiteig gharbh,
's ar dachaigh bhuan gu sìor.

An siud fo sgàil do chathair rìgh,
na naoimh fhuair tàmh is sìth;
fòghnaidh do ghàirdean-sa a-mhàin,
mar dhìdean dhuinn le cinnt.

Mus robh na cnuic an òrdagh dèant'
no 'n talamh air a stèidh,
is tus' an Dia a bh' ann o chian,
gun chaochladh fad nan rè.

Tha mìle linn nad shealladh sùl'
mar fheasgar theich gu luath,
cho aithghearr ris an fhaire oidhch'
's gath-maidne grèin' ga ruaig.

Tha tìm, mar shruth tha 'g at gu bràth,
a' sguabadh leis gach àl;
bidh iad a' falbh mar aisling bhrisg,
gun chuimhn' aig teachd an là.

Ar Dia, ar taic san àm a dh'fhalbh,
ar dòchas anns gach linn,
bi dhuinn nad gheàrd fhad 's mhaireas cràdh,
's nad dhachaigh bhuan gu sìor.


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

Beneath the shadow of thy throne,
Thy saints have dwelt secure;
Sufficient is thine arm alone,
And our defence 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!
Isaac Watts, 1674 - 1748