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546.

C. M.

Doddridge.

God Tempers the Wind to the Shorn Lamb.
423

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.

Wide as they sweep their sounding way,

They work Thy sovereign will;

And awed by Thy majestic voice,

Confusion shall be still.

Thy mercy tempers every blast

To those who seek Thy face;

And mingles with the tempest’s roar

The whispers of Thy grace.

Those gentle whispers let me hear,

Till all the tumult cease;

And gales of Paradise shall lull

My weary soul to peace.

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