There, there He leads my soul:
through mountains, rivers, brambled lands;
There, there He feeds my soul:
on manna from His loving hands.
The way be rough and arduous,
great strain at every turn;
But though the way is filled with pain,
'tis graced by His presence at each turn.
I'd not have chosen this my path,
this way so filled with grief;
Nor would I trade these many years,
because I've seen Him bring relief.
My God, my God—He leads me on,
and though I know not where;
I know I'm safe within His hands
and on Him cast my care!
Soon, soon this road shall wind to heav'n—
by faith I'll see that place;
Then by His own dear Sovereign love,
I'll see His smiling face.
- D. Benning
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