“He leadeth me!” O! blesséd thought,

O! words with heavenly comfort fraught,

Whate’er I do, whate’er I be,

Still ’tis God’s hand that leadeth me!

He leadeth me! he leadeth me!

By his own hand he leadeth me.

2 Sometimes ’midst 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.

3 Lord, I would clasp thy hands in mine,

Nor ever murmur nor repine—

Content, whatever lot I see,

Since ’tis my God that leadeth me!

He leadeth me! he leadeth me!

By his own hand he leadeth me.

4 And when my task on earth is done,

When, by thy grace, the victory’s won;

E’en death’s cold wave I will not flee,

Since God through Jordan leadeth me!

He leadeth me! he leadeth me!

By his own hand he leadeth me.