117. He leadeth me! O blessed thought
He leadeth me! O blessed thought!
Oh, words with heavenly comfort fraught!
Whate’er I do, where’er I be, Still ’tis God’s hand that leadeth me
He leadeth me! He leadeth me!
By His own hand He leadeth me!
His faithful follower I would be;
For by His hand He leadeth me!
2 Sometimes amid scenes of deepest gloom,
Sometimes where Eden’s bowers bloom,
By waters still, o’er troubled sea, Still ’tis His hand that leadeth me!
3 Lord, I would place my hand in Thine
Nor ever murmur nor repine;
Content, whatever lot I see; Since ’tis my God that leadeth me!
4 And when my task on earth is done,
When, by Thy grace, the victory’s won,
E’en death’s cold wave I will not flee
Since Thou through Jordan leadest me.