Wait O My Soul Thy Makers Will
Wait, O my soul, thy Maker’s will,
Tumultuous passions all be still,
Nor let a murmuring thought arise;
His ways are just, his counsels wise.
In realms of cloudless light he dwells,
Performs his work, the cause conceals;
And though his footsteps are unknown,
Judgment and truth support his throne.
In heaven and earth and air and seas
He executes his firm decrees;
And by his saints it stands confessed
That what he does is ever best.
Wait, then, my soul, submissive wait,
With reverence bow before his seat,
And ‘mid the terrors of his rod
Trust in a wise and gracious God.