I came across this hymn by William Cowper this morning and decided to post it. I thought someone else, besides me, may be feeling some insecurity about the future. I found this ‘Hymn 15′ from the Olney Hymnal (published in 1779) to be of great comfort. The word picture of the ‘fearful cloud’ breaking into ‘blessings on your head’ was especially meaningful. What ‘fearful clouds’ are hanging over you today? Be encouraged by these faith-filled words:
God moves in a mysterious way His wonders to perform;
He plants His footsteps in the sea, and rides upon the storm.
Deep in unfathomable mines of never failing skill
He treasures up His bright designs and works His sovereign will.
Ye fearful saints, fresh courage take;
The clouds ye so much dread
Are big with mercy and shall break in blessings on your head.
Judge not the Lord by feeble sense, but trust Him for His grace;
Behind a frowning providence He hides a smiling face.
His purposes will ripen fast, unfolding every hour.
The bud may have a bitter taste, but sweet will be the flower.
Blind unbelief is sure to err and scan His work in vain;
God is His own interpreter, and He will make it plain.