The Lord, How Wondrous Are His Ways

The Lord

how won­drous are His ways!

How firm His truth! How large His grace!

He takes His mer­cy for His throne

And thence He makes His glo­ries known.

Not half so high His pow­er hath spread

The star­ry heav’ns ab­ove our head

As His rich love ex­ceeds our praise

Exceeds the high­est hopes we raise.

Not half so far hath na­ture placed

The ris­ing morn­ing from the west

As His for­giv­ing grace re­moves

The dai­ly guilt of those He loves.

How slow­ly doth His wrath arise!

On swift­er wings sal­va­tion flies;

And if He lets His an­ger burn

How soon His frowns to pi­ty turn.

Amidst His wrath com­pass­ion shines;

His strokes are light­er than our sins;

And while His rod cor­rects His saints

His ear in­dulg­es their com­plaints.

So fa­thers their young sons chas­tise

With gen­tle hand and melt­ing eyes;

The child­ren weep be­neath the smart

And move the pi­ty of their heart.

The migh­ty God

the wise and just

Knows that our frame is fee­ble dust;

And will no hea­vy loads im­pose

Beyond the strength that He be­stows.

He knows how soon our na­ture dies

Blasted by ev­ery wind that flies;

Like grass we spring

and die as soon

Or morn­ing flow­ers that fade at noon.

But His eter­nal love is sure

To all the saints

and shall en­dure;

From age to age His truth shall reign

Nor child­ren’s child­ren hope in vain.