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.

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.

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.

Refrain

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.

Refrain

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 leads us on by paths we did not know;
Upward He leads us, tho’ our steps be slow;
Tho’ oft we faint and falter on the way,
Tho’ storms and darkness oft obscure the day,
Yet when the clouds are gone,
We know He leads us on.

He leads us on thro’ all th’unquiet years;
Past all our dreamland hopes, and doubts, and fears
He guides our steps; thro’ all the tangled maze
Of losses, sorrows, and o’erclouded days
We know His will is done,
And still He leads us on.

And He, at last—after the weary strife,
After the restless fever we call life,
After the dreariness, the aching pain,
The wayward struggles which have proved in vain,
After our toils are past—
Will give us rest at last.

The God of love my Shepherd is,
And He that doth me feed;
While He is mine and I am His,
What can I want or need?

He leads me to the tender grass,
Where I both feed and rest;
Then to the streams that gently pass:
In both I have the best.

Or if I stray, He doth convert,
And bring my mind in frame,
And all this not for my desert,
But for His holy Name.

Yea, in death’s shady black abode
Well may I walk, not fear;
For Thou art with me, and Thy rod
To guard, Thy staff to bear.

Surely Thy sweet and wondrous love
Shall measure all my days;
And as it never shall remove
So neither shall my praise.

I shall not want: in deserts wild
Thou spread’st Thy table for Thy child;
While grace in streams for thirsting souls,
Thro’ earth and Heaven forever rolls.

I shall not want: my darkest night
Thy loving smile shall fill with light;
While promises around me bloom,
And cheer me with divine perfume.

I shall not want: Thy righteousness
My soul shall clothe with glorious dress;
My blood-washed robe shall be more fair
Than garments kings or angels wear.

I shall not want: whate’er is good,
Of daily bread or angels’ food,
Shall to my Father’s child be sure,
So long as earth and Heaven endure.

I wandered sore distressed,
All weary and forlorn;
I had no place to rest,
Of all my pleasures shorn—
My thirsting spirit sighed,
And in the desert cried.

The Shepherd heard my cry,
Who came His flock to find,
And drew in mercy nigh,
For He is wondrous kind;
His winning voice awoke
My spirit as He spoke.

He bade my wandering cease,
And gave my heart a home,
That from the bliss of peace
I might no longer roam;
He gave me hope for fears,
And lasting joy for tears.

The King of love my Shepherd is,
Whose goodness faileth never,
I nothing lack if I am His
And He is mine forever.

Where streams of living water flow
My ransomed soul He leadeth,
And where the verdant pastures grow,
With food celestial feedeth.

Perverse and foolish oft I strayed,
But yet in love He sought me,
And on His shoulder gently laid,
And home, rejoicing, brought me.

In death’s dark vale I fear no ill
With Thee, dear Lord, beside me;
Thy rod and staff my comfort still,
Thy cross before to guide me.

Thou spread’st a table in my sight;
Thy unction grace bestoweth;
And O what transport of delight
From Thy pure chalice floweth!

And so through all the length of days
Thy goodness faileth never;
Good Shepherd, may I sing Thy praise
Within Thy house forever.

The Lord is my Shepherd, no want shall I know;
I feed in green pastures, safe folded I rest;
He leadeth my soul where the still waters flow,
Restores me when wand’ring, redeems when oppressed.

Through valley and shadow of death though I stray,
Since Thou art my Guardian, no evil I fear;
Thy rod shall defend me, Thy staff be my stay;
No harm can befall, with my Comforter near.

In midst of affliction my table is spread;
With blessings unmeasured my cup runneth o’er;
With perfume and oil Thou anointest my head;
O what shall I ask of Thy providence more?

Let goodness and mercy, my bountiful God,
Still follow my steps till I meet Thee above;
I seek, by the path which my forefathers trod,
Through land of their sojourn, Thy Kingdom of love.

The Lord my pasture shall prepare
And feed me with a shepherd’s care;
His presence shall my wants supply
And guard me with a watchful eye;
My noonday walks He shall attend
And all my midnight hours defend.

When in the sultry glebe I faint
Or on the thirsty mountain pant,
To fertile vales and dewy meads
My weary, wandering steps He leads,
Where peaceful rivers, soft and slow,
Amid the verdant landscape flow.

Though in the paths of death I tread,
With gloomy horrors overspread,
My steadfast heart shall fear no ill,
For Thou, O Lord, art with me still;
Thy friendly crook shall give me aid
And guide me through the dreadful shade.

Though in a bare and rugged way,
Through devious lonely wilds, I stray,
Thy bounty shall my pains beguile;
The barren wilderness shall smile,
With sudden greens and herbage crowned,
And streams shall murmur all around.

The Lord my Shepherd holds me
Within His tender care,
And with His flock He folds me,
No want shall find me there.
In pastures green He feeds me,
With plenty I am blest;
By quiet streams He leads me,
And makes me safely rest.

Whatever ill betides me,
He will restore and bless;
For His Name’s sake He guides me,
In paths of righteousness.
Thy rod and staff shall cheer me
In death’s dark vale and shade,
For Thou wilt then be near me;
I shall not be afraid.

My food Thou dost appoint me,
Supplied before my foes;
With oil Thou dost anoint me,
My cup of bliss o’erflows.
Thy goodness, Lord, shall guide me,
Thy mercy cheer my way;
A home Thou wilt provide me
Within Thy house always.

The Lord my Shepherd is,
I shall be well supplied;
Since He is mine and I am His,
What can I want beside?

He leads me to the place
Where heav’nly pasture grows,
Where living waters gently pass,
And full salvation flows.

If e’er I go astray,
He doth my soul reclaim;
And guides me in His own right way,
For His most holy Name.

While He affords His aid
I cannot yield to fear;
Though I should walk through death’s dark shade,
My Shepherd’s with me there.

In sight of all my foes,
Thou dost  my table spread;
My cup with blessing overflows,
And joy exalts my head.

The bounties of Thy love
Shall crown my following days;
Nor from Thy house will I remove,
Nor cease to speak Thy praise.

The Lord’s my Shepherd, I’ll not want.
He makes me down to lie
In pastures green; He leadeth me
The quiet waters by.

My soul He doth restore again;
And me to walk doth make
Within the paths of righteousness,
Even for His own Name’s sake.

Yea, though I walk in death’s dark vale,
Yet will I fear no ill;
For Thou art with me; and Thy rod
And staff my comfort still.

My table Thou hast furnishèd
In presence of my foes;
My head Thou dost with oil anoint,
And my cup overflows.

Goodness and mercy all my life
Shall surely follow me;
And in God’s house forevermore
My dwelling place shall be.

My Shepherd fills my every need:
For my soul’s good, He came to bleed.
In pastures green, He makes me lie,
I rest content beneath His eye.

With Him I walk by waters still,
And drink the peace of His sweet will.
My tiring spirit He restores:
His wine of grace from Calv’ry pours.

In righteous paths He leads me on
From wrath’s dark night to mercy’s dawn.
With promise faithful as His name,
He swears His love, always the same.

Death’s mighty shadows cast their pall,
But Jesus vanquishes them all,
No ill can touch, nor evil harm
The treasure kept by God’s own arm.

His rod and staff drive out all fear.
His righteous robes dry every tear.
Before my foes, this bread He breaks,
And of His flesh, my soul partakes.

I smell His oil upon my head
Whose death shall raise me from the dead.
My cup o’er flows with Calv’ry’s wine:
This blood of God makes heaven mine.

Goodness and mercy follow me;
Through all the days my life shall be,
And in God’s house, His praise to tell,
My ransomed soul will ever dwell.

My Shepherd is the Lamb,
The living Lord Who died;
With all things good I ever am
By Him supplied.
He richly feeds my soul
With blessings from above,
And leads me where the rivers roll
Of endless love.

My soul He doth restore
Whene’er I go astray;
He makes my cup of joy run o’er
From day to day;
His love, so full, so free,
Anoints my head with oil;
Mercy and goodness follow me,
Fruit of His toil.

When faith and hope shall cease,
And love abide alone,
Then shall I see Him face to face,
And know as known.
Still shall I lift my voice,
His praise my song shall be;
And I will in His love rejoice
Who died for me.

My Shepherd is the living Lord;
Now shall my wants be well supplied;
His providence and holy Word
Become my safety and my guide.

In pastures where salvation grows
He makes me feed, He makes me rest;
There living water gently flows,
And all the food’s divinely blest.

My wandering feet His ways mistake,
But He restores my soul to peace,
And leads me, for His mercy’s sake,
In the fair paths of righteousness.

Though I walk through the gloomy vale
Where death and all its terrors are,
My heart and hope shall never fail,
For God my Shepherd’s with me there.

Amidst the darkness and the deeps,
Thou art my comfort, Thou my stay;
Thy staff supports my feeble steps,
Thy rod directs my doubtful way.

The sons of earth, and sons of hell,
Gaze at Thy goodness, and repine
To see my table spread so well
With living bread and cheerful wine.

How I rejoice when on my head
Thy Spirit condescends to rest!
’Tis a divine anointing, shed
Like oil of gladness at a feast.

Surely the mercies of the Lord
Attend His household all their days;
There will I dwell to hear His Word,
To seek His face, and sing His praise.

My Shepherd is the Lord my God;
What can I want beside?
He leads me where green pastures are,
And where cool waters hide.

He will refresh my soul again,
When I am faint and sore,
And guide my step for His Name’s sake,
In right paths evermore.

Though I should walk the vale of death,
I should not know a fear.
Thy rod and staff they comfort me:
Thou, Lord, art ever near.

A table Thou hast spread for me
In presence of my foes;
Thou dost anoint my head with oil,
My cup, Lord, overflows.

Thy goodness and Thy mercy, Lord,
Will surely follow me,
And in Thy house forevermore
My dwelling place shall be.

My Shepherd will supply my need:
Jehovah is His Name;
In pastures fresh He makes me feed,
Beside the living stream.
He brings my wandering spirit back
When I forsake His ways,
And leads me, for His mercy’s sake,
In paths of truth and grace.

When I walk through the shades of death
Thy presence is my stay;
One word of Thy supporting breath
Drives all my fears away.
Thy hand, in sight of all my foes,
Doth still my table spread;
My cup with blessings overflows,
Thine oil anoints my head.

The sure provisions of my God
Attend me all my days;
O may Thy house be my abode,
And all my work be praise.
There would I find a settled rest,
While others go and come;
No more a stranger, nor a guest,
But like a child at home.

Though beneath the drifting snow,
Summer flow’rs have been laid low,
I am safe in the tender Shepherd’s care;
Tho’ the sunbeams hide away,
On the dark and cloudy day,
I am safe in the tender Shepherd’s care.

Refrain

Safe, in the tender Shepherd’s care,
Safe on His bosom He will bear
Those who trust His mighty love,
Bear them to the land above,
Safe in the Shepherd’s tender care.

In green pastures I’ll be fed,
By the quiet waters led,
I am safe in the tender Shepherd’s care;
He will guide me to the fold,
Sheltered from the wintry cold,
I am safe in the tender Shepherd’s care.

Refrain

Through the valley dark and deep,
He will comfort, He will keep,
I am safe in the tender Shepherd’s care;
Happy in His saving grace,
Till I see His blessèd face,
I am safe in the tender Shepherd’s care.

Refrain

Savior! I follow on, guided by Thee,
Seeing not yet the hand that leadeth me;
Hushed be my heart and still, fear I no further ill;
Only to meet Thy will my will shall be.

Riven the rock for me thirst to relieve,
Manna from Heaven falls fresh every eve;
Never a want severe causeth my eye a tear,
But Thou dost whisper near, “Only believe!”

Often to Marah’s brink have I been brought;
Shrinking the cup to drink, help I have sought;
And with the prayer’s ascent, Jesus the branch hath rent—
Quickly relief hath sent, sweetening the draught.

Savior! I long to walk closer with Thee;
Led by Thy guiding hand ever to be;
Constantly near Thy side, quickened and purified,
Living for Him Who died freely for me!

Thou art my Shepherd,
Caring in every need,
Thy loving lamb to feed,
Trusting Thee still.
In the green pastures low,
Where living waters flow,
Safe by Thy side I go,
Fearing no ill.

Or if my way lie
Where storms are raging nigh,
Nothing can terrify,
I trust Thee still.
How can I be afraid,
While softly on my head
Thy tender hand is laid?
I fear no ill.

Goodness and mercy
Ever shall follow me,
Till by Thy grace I see
Thy holy hill;
Lord, in that home with Thee,
Joyful eternally,
Folded Thy flock shall be,
Safe from all ill.

Why should we start and fear to die?
What tim’rous worms we mortals are!
Death is the gate of endless joy,
And yet we dread to enter there.

The pains, the groans, the dying strife,
Fright our approaching souls away;
Still we shrink back again to life,
Fond of our prison and our clay.

O, if my Lord would come and meet,
My soul should stretch her wings in haste,
Fly fearless through death’s iron gate,
Nor feel the terrors as she passed.

Jesus can make a dying bed
Feel soft as downy pillows are,
While on His breast I lean my head,
And breathe my life out sweetly there.

Ye little flock whom Jesus feeds,
Dismiss your anxious cares;
Look to the Shepherd of your souls,
And smile away your fears.

Though wolves and lions prowl around,
His staff is your defense;
’Midst sands and rocks, your Shepherd’s voice,
Calls streams and pastures thence.

Your Father will a kingdom give,
And give it with delight;
His feeblest child His love shall call,
To triumph in His sight.

Ten thousand praises, Lord, we bring,
For sure supports like these;
And o’er the pious dead we sing,
Thy living promises.