Sunday, September 11, 2011

September 11


He leadeth me.
In pastures green? No, not always
Sometimes He who knoweth best
In kindness leadeth me in weary ways
Where heavy shadows be:
Out of the sunshine warm and soft and bright,
Out of the sunshine into the darkest night.
I oft would yield to sorrow and to fright
Only for this: I know he holds my hand.
So, whether led in green, or desert land
I trust, although I cannot understand.

He leadeth me.
Besides still waters?  No, not always so.
Oft times the heavy tempests round me blow,
And o'er my soul the waves and billows go.
But when the storm beats wildest, and I cry
Aloud for help, the Master standeth by
And whispers to my soul: "Lo, it is I."
Above the tempests wild I hear Him say:
"Beyond the darkness lies the perfect day;
In every path of thine 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 helpless, broken reed,
But His Own hand, sufficient to my need.
So where He leads me I can safely go.
And in the blest hereafter I shall know
Why in His wisdom He hath led me so.
-Author Unknown

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