WAIT, O my soul, your Makerís 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;
And, though His footsteps are unknown,
Judgement and truth support His throne.
3  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.
4  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