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God moves in a mysterious way His wonders to perform: He plants His footsteps in the sea, And rides upon the storm. |
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Deep in unfathomable mines Of never-failing skill, He treasures up His bright designs, And works His sovereign will. |
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Ye fearful saints, fresh courage take; The clouds ye so much dread Are big with mercy, and shall break In blessings on your head. |
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Judge not the Lord by feeble sense, But trust Him for His grace; Behind a frowning providence He hides a smiling face. |
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His purposes will ripen fast, Unfolding every hour: The bud may have a bitter taste, But sweet will be the flower. |
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Blind unbelief is sure to err, And scan His work in vain; God is His own Interpreter, And He will make it plain. |
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Newark, DE, United States
I used to keep these words on my office table. I read the whole spiritual poem/hymn many times, and it comforted me in times of anxiety and distress. I love this.