1 God moves in a mysterious way
His wonders to perform:
He plants His footsteps in the sea
And rides upon the storm.
2 Deep in unfathomable mines
Of never failing skill,
He treasures up His bright designs
And works His sov’reign will.
3 You fearful saints, fresh courage take:
The clouds you so much dread
Are big with mercy, and shall break
In blessings on your head.
4 Judge not the Lord by feeble sense,
But trust Him for His grace;
Behind a frowning providence
He hides a smiling face.
5 His purposes will ripen fast,
Unfolding every hour;
The bud may have a bitter taste,
But sweet will be the flower.
6 Blind unbelief is sure to err
And scan His work in vain;
God is His own interpreter,
And He will make it plain.
