Hymn LXXXI. Common Metre. Divine Providence, and the Folly of self dependence

God reigns; events in order flow, Man's industry to guide; But in a different channel go, To humble human pride.

The swift, not always in the race, Shall win the crowning prize; Not always wealth and honor grace The labors of the wise.

Fond mortals do themselves beguile, When on themselves they rest; Blind is their wisdom, vain their toil, By thee, O Lord, unblest.

'Tis ours, the furrows to prepare, And sow the precious grain; 'Tis thine, to give the sun and air And to command the rain.

Evil and good before thee stand, Their mission to perform; The Sun shines bright at thy command, Thy hand directs the storm.

In all thy ways, we humbly own Thy providential power; Intrusting to thy care alone, The lot of every hour.