In Chapter 15 of Rilla of Ingleside, the evening before Walter leaves for the front:

They went back to Ingleside. Mr. and Mrs. Meredith were there, with Gertrude Oliver, who had come from Lowbridge to say good-bye. Everybody was quite cheerful and bright, but nobody said much about the war being soon over, as they had said when Jem went away. They did not talk about the war at all–and they thought of nothing else. At last they gathered around the piano and sang the grand old hymn:

“Oh God, our help in ages past
Our hope for years to come.
Our shelter from the stormy blast
And our eternal home.”

“We all come back to God in these days of soul-sifting,” said Gertrude to John Meredith. “There have been many days in the past when I didn’t believe in God–not as God–only as the impersonal Great First Cause of the scientists. I believe in Him now–I have to–there’s nothing else to fall back on but God–humbly, starkly, unconditionally.” “‘Our help in ages past’–’the same yesterday, to-day and for ever,’” said the minister gently. “When we forget God–He remembers us.”

O God Our Help in Ages Past
Isaac Watts

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 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.

Thy Word commands our flesh to dust,
“Return, ye sons of men:”
All nations rose from earth at first,
And turn to earth again.

A thousand ages in Thy sight
Are like an evening gone;
Short as the watch that ends the night
Before the rising sun.

The busy tribes of flesh and blood,
With all their lives and cares,
Are carried downwards by the flood,
And lost in following years.

Time, like an ever rolling stream,
Bears all its sons away;
They fly, forgotten, as a dream
Dies at the opening day.

Like flowery fields the nations stand
Pleased with the morning light;
The flowers beneath the mower’s hand
Lie withering 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.

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Source

http://www.cyberhymnal.org/htm/o/g/ogohiap.htm