168. The Mystery and Benignity of Providence.

GOD moves in a mysterious way,

His wonders to perform :

He plants his footsteps in the sea,
And rides upon the storm.

Deep in unfathomable mines
Of never-failing skill,
He treasures up his bright designs,
And works his sovereign will.

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

Judge not the Lord by feeble sense,
But trust him for his grace:
Behind a frowning providence
He hides a smiling face.

His purposes will ripen fast,

Unfolding every hour: The bud may have a bitter taste,

But sweet will be the flower.

Blind unbelief is sure to err, And scan his work in vain: God is his own interpreter,

And he will make it plain.

William Cowper.

But help thou, Lord, my unbelief.

E'en thro' the sweetness of my faith

That shimmers through the receding doubt Give me a holier might of faith

That sees no doubting gloom without.

That faith may grow from strength to strength;

And he that hath to him be given; So shall this little faith of earth

Become the larger faith of heaven. 172.

WHERE ancient forests round us spread,
Where bends the cataract's ocean-fall,
On the lone mountain's silent head,

There are thy temples, God of all I

All

space

is holy, for all space

Is filled by thee; but human thought Burns clearer in some chosen place,

Where thine own words of love are taught.

Here be they taught; and may we know
That faith thy servants knew of old,
Which onward bears, through weal and woe,
Till death the gates of heaven unfold!
Nor we alone may those whose brow
Shows yet no trace of human cares,
Hereafter stand where we do now,
And raise to thee still holier prayers!