Our Shield and Defender, the Ancient of Days,

pavilioned in splendor and girded with praise.

whose robe is the light, whose canopy space.

Whose chariots of wrath the deep thunderclouds form,

and dark is God’s path on the wings of the storm.

almighty, your power has founded of old.

Established it fast by a changeless decree,

and round it has cast, like a mantle, the sea.

It breathes in the air, it shines in the light:

it streams from the hills, it descends to the plain,

and sweetly distills in the dew and the rain.

in you do we trust, nor find you to fail;

your mercies how tender, how firm to the end,

our Maker, Defender, Redeemer and Friend.