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.

 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 or repine;

    Content, whatever lot I see,

    Since it is Thou that leadest 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.