God Tempers the Wind to the Shorn Lamb.
1 Great ruler of all nature's frame,
We own Thy power divine;
We hear Thy breath in every storm,
For all the winds are Thine.
2 Wide as they sweep their sounding way,
They work Thy sovereign will;
And awed by Thy majestic voice,
Confusion shall be still.
3 Thy mercy tempers every blast
To those who seek Thy face;
And mingles with the tempest's roar
The whispers of Thy grace.
4 Those gentle whispers let me hear,
Till all the tumult cease;
And gales of Paradise shall lull
My weary soul to peace.