There is melody in this sentence. The heart can sing it, and does. For it enfolds in its short compass of three words the tender pity, the intimate care, the personal love of the Lord to me. I am an object of interest to Him; He has a destiny in view for me, and He does not commit me to another to bring me to it. "HE leads me." Does not that strike a chord in the heart?
He does not drive me as though I were reluctant to take His way, nor drag me as though He were impatient with my weakness. "He leads me." Yes; His heart is in it. It is Himself that does it, and He does it as only He can.
I called to see a young mother. Her baby boy, the first, was just learning to walk, and she was anxious that I should see how well he could do it. So, taking his small hand in hers, she led him across the floor. I noticed that she did not make him take long strides that she herself could have taken, nor go the pace that she could have gone. No; she shortened her steps to his and went as he could go, and steadied his weak effort until the task was done, and then she caught him to her breast and kissed him in the ecstasy of a mother's love.
"That is it," I said. Thus "He leads me." And all the tenderness of that love that made Him die to win me is in the way He does it. He knows our frame, considers every infirmity and is able to succour. When our steps falter He is near to support. And if we tire in the way He will carry us.
"He leads me." I walked away from the house where I had learnt that sweet lesson with a light step and a glad heart that sang a song of praise to the Lord, for I had had a fresh glimpse of His grace, and I felt that the way must be a right way, a path of righteousness, if He leads me in it, and that His grace will be sufficient to uphold me to the end of it. Then the eternal embrace of love. What a wonderful Saviour is He!