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C. M.
In the winds.
Isaiah 27:8.
Great Ruler of all nature’s frame,
We own thy power divine;
We hear thy breath in every storm
For all the winds are thine.
2 Wide as they sweep their sounding way,
They work thy sovereign will;
And, awed by the majestic voice,
Confusion shall be still.
3 Thy mercy tempers every blast
To them that seek thy face,
And mingles with the tempest’s roar,
The whispers of thy grace.
4 Those gentle whispers let me hear,
Till all the tumult cease;
And gales of paradise shall lull
My weary soul to peace.
Doddridge.