Martins He Leadeth Me
He leadeth me, O blessèd thought! O words with heav’nly
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.
Sometimes mid scenes of deepest gloom, Sometimes where
Eden’s bowers bloom, By waters still, over troubled sea,
Still ’tis His hand that leadeth me.
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.
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 leadeth me.
