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 Judge not the Lord by feeble sense, But trust Him for His grace; Behind a frowning providence He hides a smiling face. 4 His purposes will ripen fast, Unfolding every hour; The bud may have a bitter taste, But sweet will be the flower. 5 Blind unbelief is sure to err, And scan His work in vain; God is His own interpreter, And He will make it plain.