God Moves In A Mysterious Way
His Wonders To Perform;
He Plants His Footsteps In The Sea
And Rides Upon The Storm.

Ye Fearful Saints, Fresh Courage Take;
The Clouds Ye So Much Dread
Are Big With Mercy And Shall Break
In Blessings On Your Head.

His Purposes Will Ripen Fast,
Unfolding Every Hour;
The Bud May Have A Bitter Taste,
But Sweet Will Be The Flower.

Blind Unbelief Is Sure To Err
And Scan His Works In Vain;
God Is His Own Interpreter,
And He Will Make It Plain.

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