Songs

He leadeth me! O blessed thought!

		
346
			L.M.D.

1	He leadeth me! O blessed thought! 
	O 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 'mid 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 clasp Thy hand in mine, 
	Nor ever murmur not 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 vict’ry's won, 
	E'en death's cold wave I will not flee, 
	Since God through Jordan leadest me.

					J.H. Gilmore