1 God moves in a mysterious way
His wonders to perform;
He plants His footsteps in the sea
And rides upon the storm.

2 Judge not the Lord by feeble sense,
But trust Him for His grace;
Behind a frowning providence
Faith sees a smiling face.

3 His purposes will ripen fast,
Unfolding ev'ry hour;
The bud may have a bitter taste,
But sweet will be the flow'r.

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

5 You fearful saints, fresh courage take;
The clouds ye so much dread
Are big with mercy and will break
In blessings on your head.