1. God moves in a mysterious way
His wonders to perform;
He plants his footsteps in the sea
And rides upon the storm.
2. Ye fearful Saints, fresh courage take;
The clouds ye so much dread
Are big with mercy and shall break
In blessings on your head.
3. His purposes will ripen fast,
Unfolding ev’ry hour;
The bud may have a bitter taste,
But sweet will be the flower.
4. Blind unbelief is sure to err
And scan his works in vain;
God is his own interpreter,
And he will make it plain.
Text:, 1731–1800 Music:, 1816–1868 Descant:, b. 1944
This hymn may be copied for incidental, noncommercial church or home use.
[photo] Photography © Corbis Images and Masterfile USA Corporation