Thy Ways O Lord
Thy ways, O Lord! with wise design,
Are framed upon thy throne above,
And ev’ry dark and bending line
Meets in the center of thy love.
With feeble light, and half obscure,
Poor mortals thy arrangements view,
Not knowing that the least is sure,
And the mysterious just and true.
Thy flock, thy own peculiar care,
Though now they seem to roam uneyed.
Are led or driven only where
They best and safest may abide.
They neither know nor trace the way,
But trusting to thy piercing eye,
None of their feet to ruin stray,
Nor shall the weakest fail or die.
My favored soul shall meekly learn
To lay her reason at thy throne;
Too weak thy secrets to discern,
I’ll trust thee for my guide alone.