Sunday Hymn: God Moves in a Mysterious Way

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.

Ye fear­ful saints, fresh cour­age take;
The clouds ye so much dread
Are big 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 flow­er.

Blind unbe­lief is sure to err
And scan His work in vain;
God is His own in­ter­pret­er,
And He will make it plain.

—William Cowper