Ambrose Serle, 1786
Thy ways, O Lord, with wise design|
Are framed upon Thy throne above,
And every dark and bending line
Meets in the center of Thy love.
2. With feeble light and half obscure
3. Thy flock, Thine own peculiar care,|
Though now they seem to roam uneyed,
Are led or driven only where
They best and safest may abide.
4. They neither know nor trace the way;
5. My favored soul shall meekly learn|
To lay her reason at Thy throne;
Too weak Thy secrets to discern,
I'll trust Thee for my Guide alone.
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