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'.