O God, Who Didst Thy Will Unfold

O God

who didst Thy will un­fold

In won­drous modes to saints of old

By dream

by ora­cle

or seer

Wilt Thou not still Thy peo­ple hear?

What though no an­swer­ing voice is heard!

Thine ora­cles

the writ­ten Word

Counsel and guid­ance still im­part

Responsive to the up­right heart.

What though no more by dreams is shown

That fu­ture things to God are known;

Enough the pro­mis­es re­veal:

Wisdom and love the rest con­ceal.

Faith asks no sig­nal from the skies

To show that pray­ers ac­cept­ed rise;

Our priest is in the ho­ly place

And an­swers from the throne of grace.

No need of pro­phets to in­quire:

The sun is ris’n; the stars re­tire;

The Com­fort­er is come

and sheds

His ho­ly unc­tion on our heads.

Lord

with this grace our hearts in­spire;

Answer our sac­ri­fice by fire;

And by Thy migh­ty acts de­clare

Thou art the God who hear­eth pray­er.