His wonders to perform…
He plants his footsteps in the sea, and rides upon the storm.
Deep in unfathomable mines of never failing skills,
he treasures his bright designs and works
in a sovereign will.
Ye fearful saints, fresh courage take,
The clouds ye are so much dread and shall make the blessings on your head…
Judge not the lord, but trust him for his grace,
behind a frowning providence, he has a smiling face…
His purposes will ripen fast, unfolding every hour…
The bud may have a bitter taste but the sweet will be the flower.
Blind, unbelief is sure to err and scan his work in vain
God is his interpreter and he will make it plain.
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