1 Lord, we adore thy vast designs, Th' obscure abyss of providence, Too deep to sound with mortal lines Too dark to view with feeble sense.
2 Now thou array'st thine awful face In angry frowns, without a smile; We thro' the cloud believe thy grace, Secure of thy compassion still.
3 Thro' seas and storms of deep distress We sail by faith and not by sight; Faith guides us in the wilderness Through all the briers and the night.
4 Dear Father, if thy lifted rod Resolve to scourge us here below, Still we must lean upon our God, Thine arm shall bear us safely thro'.