|
|
| |
|
The swift not always in the race
Shall seize the crowning prize;
Not always wealth and honour grace
The labour of the wise.
Fond mortals but themselves beguile
When on themselves they rest:
Blind is their wisdom, weak their toil,
By thee, O lord, unblest.
Evil and good before thee stand,
Thy missions to perform;
The blessing comes at thy command,
At thy command the storm.
O Lord, in all our ways we’ll own
Thy providential power,
Intrusting to thy care alone
The lot of every hour.
|
marker 99
|
LYRICS
|
Meter:
|
8 6 8 6 (C.M.)
|
|
Writer(s):
|
|
|
Trans/Adapted:
|
| |
Dates:
|
|
|
Bible Refs:
|
|
LIST OF LYRIC SOURCES
|
Hymn/Song Book
|
Year
|
Song #
|
| 1851 | # 419 |
echo ' | ';
|
Hymn Writer
