WAIT, O my soul, your Maker’s will: Tumultuous passions, all be still, Nor let a murmuring thought arise: His ways are just, His counsels wise.
He in the thickest darkness dwells, Performs His work, the cause conceals; And, though His footsteps are unknown, Judgement and truth support His throne.
In Heaven and earth, in air and seas, He executes His wise decrees: And by His saints it stands confessed, That what He does is always best.
Wait, then, my soul, submissive wait, With reverence bow before His seat; And even though He shows His rod, Trust in a wise and gracious God.
Benjamin Beddome, 1717-95