1 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. 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. 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. 3 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. 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. 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 Thou in
triumph leadest 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.
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