God moves in mysterious way
His
wonders to perform;
He
plants His footsteps in the sea,
And
ride upon the storm.
2
Ye
fearful saints, fresh courage take;
The
clouds ye so much dread
Are
big with mercy, and shall break
In
blessings on your head.
3
Judge
not the Lord by feeble sense,
But
trust Him for His grace;
Behind
a frowning providence
He
hides a smiling face.
4
His
purpose will ripen fast,
Unfolding
every hour;
The
bud may have a bitter fast,
But
sweet will be the flower.
5
Blind
unbelief is sure to err,
And
scan His work in vain;
God
is His own interpreter,
And
He will make it plain.