God moves in a mysterious way
His wonders to perform;
He plants His footsteps in the sea,
And rides upon the storm.
Seep 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
A big with mercy, and shall break
In blessing 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 purposed 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 poethunter.com
What a wonderful refutation to unbridled fear and trustlessness. OK - this really IS one of my favorites. It has my needs, I mean name, all over it.
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