He leadeth me! O blessed thought

He leadeth me! O blessed thought,
O words with heav’nly comfort fraught;
Whate’er I do, where’er I be,
Still ’tis Christ’s hand that leadeth me.

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.

Lord, I would clasp Thy hand in mine,
Nor ever murmur or repine;
Content, whatever lot I see,
Since it is Thou that leadest 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 Thou in triumph leadest me.