How perfect are Thy ways, Oh God!
How perfect are Thy ways!
Thy skies were cloudless in the blue above,
And my heart sang out its praise!
Sweet it was in green pastures to lie
And drink of the waters cool nearby,
To bask in Thy love and mercy and grace,
To know in Thy heart I was given a place.
Those were the picnic days of my life,
So thankful was I to be mother and wife.

And my lightsome heart sang out its praise,
“How perfect, Oh God, are all Thy ways!”

How perfect are Thy ways, Oh God?
How perfect are Thy ways?
When skies are darkened in the storm around,
Will my trembling heart still tell its praise?
Precious it is to remember Thy Word,
To drink deep of Thy goodness, Oh my God!
To be wrapped in Thy comfort, upheld by Thy arms,
I know Thou art folding me safe in Thy palms.
These are the days that cut like a knife.
Numbing my heart and dark’ning my life.

Still my sobbing heart whispers its praise,
“How perfect, Oh God, are all Thy ways!”

(written by my grandmother, Anne B. Simpson, in 1987)