Written by an anonymous dying woman
He leadeth me
In pastures green? Not always. Sometimes he
Who knoweth best, in kindness leadeth me
In weary ways, where shadows be.
Out of the sunshine, warm and soft and bright,
Out of the sunshine into darkest night
I oft would faint with sorrow and affright
Only for this - I know He holds my hand;
So whether in green or desert land,
I trust, although I may not understand.
And by still waters? No, not always so,
Ofttimes the heavy tempests round me blow
And o'er my soul the waves and billows go.
But when the storm beats loudest and I cry
Aloud for help, the Master standest by,
And whispers in my soul - "Lo, it is I."
Above the tempest I will hear Him say,
"Beyond the darkness lies the perfect day.
In every path of time I lead the way."
So whether on the hilltops high and fair
I dwell, or in the sunless valleys where
The shadows lie - what matter. He is there!
And more than this : Where'er the pathway lead,
He gives me no broken, helpless reed.
But His own hand, sufficient is my need.
So where He leads me I can safely go,
And in the blest hereafter I shall know
Why, in his kindness, He hath led me so.
(submitted to Women in God's Image October 2003 by Robert Twycross, retired Director of Hospice)
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