O wondrous wheel of providence,
Held in Jehovah’s hand;
Mysterious to the sons of sense,
Moved by divine command!
Each of time’s changes, like a spoke,
Proceeds from God, its source;
Each fills its station, none are broke,
All aid its wondrous course.
Its circle reaches earth’s wide bound,
Its axis is God’s will;
On His decrees it must go round
Till He shall say, “Be still.”
Let atheists vainly talk of chance,
I would this wheel adore,
Which rules and guides each circumstance
Which angels can’t explore.
Through seas, o’er hills it makes its way,
Though earth and hell oppose;
’Tis hastening on the last great day,
Its wonders to disclose.