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.

2 He in the thickest darkness dwells,

Performs his work, the cause conceals;

But, though his methods are unknown,

Judgment and truth support his throne.

3 In heaven, and earth, and air, and seas,

He executes his firm decrees;

And by his saints it stands confest,

That what he does is ever best.

4 Wait then, my soul, submissive wait,

Prostrate before his awful seat;

And, ’midst the terrors of his rod,

Trust in a wise and gracious God.