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