1 Lord, how mysterious are thy ways!
How blind are we! how mean our praise!
Thy steps, can mortal eyes explore?
'Tis ours to wonder and adore!

2 Thy deep decrees from creature sight
Are hid in shades of awful night;
Amid the lines, with curious eye,
Nor angels minds presume to pry.

3 Great God! I would not ask to see
What in futurity shall be:
If light and bliss attend my days,
Then let my future hours be praise.

4 Is darkness and distress my share?
Then let me trust thy guardian care;
Enough for me, if love divine
At length through ev'ry cloud shall shine.

5 Yet this my soul desires to know,
Be this my only wish below,
"That Christ is mine," this great request
Grant, bounteous God, and I am blest.