God moves in a mysterious way His wonders to perform
He plants His footsteps in the sea, and rides upon the storm
Deep in unfathomable mines of never failing skill
He treasures up His bright designs, and works His sovereign will
You fearful saints, fresh courage take; the clouds you so much dread
Are filled with mercy, and shall break in blessings on your head
Judge not the Lord by feeble sense, but trust Him for His grace
Behind a frowning providence He hides a smiling face
His purposes will ripen fast, unfolding every hour
The bud may have a bitter taste, but sweet will be the flow'r
Blind unbelief is sure to err, and scan His work in vain
God is His own interpreter, and He will make it plain
Judge not the Lord by feeble sense, but trust Him for His grace
Behind a frowning providence He hides a smiling face