So full of myst’ry are your ways—
You guide our paths and plan our days.
You sit on throne above the sky,
Yet to this earth you came to die.
Our praise to you we offer free—
Our dance, our song, our bended knee.
With voices loud and trumpet clear,
Our praise to you comes forth from cheer.
Yet also do we sing when low,
And in our sadness still we show
That praise to you our voices guide
In times when we’ve been tossed aside.
And those times when don’t we feel
That our souls your love will heal —
Yes, in those days when there’s no thrill,
Our tongues will praise you even still.
Lord, teach us how to sing to you
And praise your mercies ever new —
Your mercies seen at dawn’s first light,
Your mercies helping us through night.
Our Lord, we praise and you adore
For us you’ve opened heaven’s store
And poured upon us mercies all,
So to your throne our praises call.
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