Lord, my weak thought in vain would climb

To search the starry vault profound:

In vain would wing her flight sublime,

To find creation’s outmost bound.

2 But weaker yet that thought must prove

To search thy great eternal plan—

Thy sovereign counsels, born of love

Long ages ere the world began.

3 When my dim reason would demand

Why that, or this, thou dost ordain,

By some vast deep I seem to stand,

Whose secrets I must ask in vain.

4 When doubts disturb my troubled breast,

And all is dark as night to me,

Here, as on solid rock, I rest;

That so it seemeth good to thee.

5 Be this my joy, that evermore

Thou rulest all things at thy will:

Thy sovereign wisdom I adore,

And calmly, sweetly trust thee still.