GOD MOVES IN A

MYSTERIOUS WAY

An almost impenetrable fog had settled down over the city of London, and in a dismal flat in the heart of the crowded East End of London, a man battling grim forebodings paced the floor of his house. Suddenly overcome by discouragement, a prisoner of his nameless fears, William Cowper threw his coat around him and walked resolutely toward the door. He turned the key and strode into the blackened night.

Carefully groping his way toward the pavement, he felt for the iron horse's head at the ring of the hitching post. Then, guided by the curbstone, he made his way to the nearest corner, where he

knew a horse-drawn carriage was always waiting.

He opened its door and ordered the driver, "To the Thames, sir!" In his deep depression there seemed no way out but to jump from the bridge.

It should have taken fifteen minutes, but after an hour and a half of negotiating the dark foggy streets of London, they realized that they were hopelessly lost. In desperation he decided to walk and paid the driver his fare.

But as he alighted from the carriage, his arm struck a familiar object—the iron horse's head of a hitching post. After an hour and a half of fitful wandering, he had stopped in front of his own house.

Amazed, William Cowper climbed the stairs to his flat and with emotion begged God to forgive him for what he had almost done.

And then in that room so recently filled with gloom, he wrote the words of the immortal song God moves in a mysterious way:

"God moves in a mysterious way

His wonders to perform;

He plants His footsteps in the sea,

And rides upon the storm.