O words with heavenly comfort fraught!
Whate'er I do, where'er I be,
Still it's Your hand that leads me.
You lead me, You lead me;
By Your own hand You lead me:
Your faithful follower I will be,
As by Your hand You lead me.
Sometimes mid scenes of deepest gloom,
Sometimes where Eden's flowers bloom,
By waters calm, o'er troubled sea,
Still it's Your hand that leads me.
Lord, I would clasp Your hand in mine,
And never murmur nor repine;
Content, whatever lot I see,
Since I know my God is leading me.
And when my task on earth is done,
When, by Your grace, the victory's won,
Even death's cold wave I will not flee,
Since You through Jordan are leading me.
(a hymn by Joseph Gilmore, slightly revised; photo via pixabay.com)
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