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