Spaniards make me sad and William Cowper makes me grateful

Tonight on my way home from school I was listening to a CD I hadn't heard in a while, and this hymn took me by surprise. I was happy to receive it as a new and perfect mercy from a gracious and gift-giving heavenly Father.

[Incidentally, if you haven't heard Piper on Cowper, now's a good time.]

God moves in a mysterious way
His wonders to perform;
He plants His footsteps in the sea
And rides upon the storm.

Deep in unfathomable mines
Of never failing skill
He treasures up His bright designs
And works His sovereign will.

Ye fearful saints, fresh courage take;
The clouds ye so much dread
Are big with mercy and shall break
In blessings on your head.

Judge not the Lord by feeble sense,
But trust Him for His grace;
Behind a frowning providence
He hides a smiling face.

His purposes will ripen fast,
Unfolding every hour;
The bud may have a bitter taste,
But sweet will be the flower.

Blind unbelief is sure to err
And scan His work in vain;
God is His own interpreter,
And He will make it plain.

Oh, and about the Spaniards -- I've come to realize that whenever I hear somebody speak with a Spanish accent, it makes me sad. I spent a good chunk of phonology class today trying to figure this out. It could be because my beloved GWC professor was a Spaniard, and because I loved his class and had a harder time leaving him than any professor ever. Or it could be because last semester I watched a really sad movie about a Spanish professor.

But I think it's most likely because I just feel sorry for Spain. There it was, a huge empire, discovering new continents and enjoying victory over the Moors. And -- boom -- just a bit later and it's hardly anything at all. Not only that, but a bazillion people on the new continent confiscated the language. In my mind, Spaniards are a nearly-exiled people like something in Lord of the Rings.

Hopefully I get over this while there's still time to learn something about phonology.