Lead gently, Lord, and slow,
  For oh, my steps are weak,
And ever as I go,
  Some soothing sentence speak;

That I may turn my face
  Through doubt's obscurity
Toward thine abiding-place,
  E'en tho' I cannot see.

For lo, the way is dark;
  Through mist and cloud I grope,
Save for that fitful spark,
  The little flame of hope.

Lead gently, Lord, and slow,
  For fear that I may fall;
I know not where to go
  Unless I hear thy call.

My fainting soul doth yearn
  For thy green hills afar;
So let thy mercy burn -- 
  My greater, guiding star!