I've had several requests for the poem I shared in the podcast I posted yesterday. Here it is (by Henry H. Berry)
He Leadeth Me
In ‘green pastures’”? Not always; sometimes He
Who knowest best, in kindness leadeth me
In weary ways, where heavy shadows be;
Out of the sunshine into darkest night,
I oft would faint with sorrows and affright,
Only for this: I know He holds my hand;
So, whether led in green or desert land,
I trust, although I may not understand.
Beside “still waters”? No, not always so;
Oftimes the heavy tempests ‘round me blow,
And o’er my soul the waves and billows go.
But when the storms beat loudest, and I cry
Aloud for help, the Master standeth by,
And whispers to my soul, “Lo, it is I.”
Above the tempest wild I hear Him say:
“Beyond this darkness lies the perfect day;
In every path of thine I lead the way.”
So whether on the hill-tops 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 to me no helpless, broken reed,
But His own hand, sufficient for my need.
Art credit: Gathering Storm by Jozsef Molnar
The Well-Educated Mother's Heart