O blessed thought
DECEMBER 1, 2007 (SATURDAY) – In March, 1862, Joseph H. Gilmore was teaching the 23rd Psalm at the mid-week service of the First Baptist Church of Philadelphia, Pennsylvania, and when he came to the words, “He leadeth me,” they captured his heart. After the meeting, he penciled this hymn, and handed it to his wife, who sent it to a Boston paper, which printed it. Three years later, he discovered his poem had been set to music and was in a hymnal. I will always remember hearing a recorded sermon of Dr. George W. Truett, pastor for a half century at the First Baptist Church of Dallas, in which he concluded by quoting this hymn.
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.
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.
Refrain
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.