Words: , 1879.

Music: , 1880.

For a num­ber of days be­fore I wrote this hymn, all had seemed dark to me. That was in­deed an un­usu­al ex­per­ience, for I have al­ways been most cheer­ful; and so in my hu­man weak­ness I cried in pray­er, ‘Dear Lord, hold thou my hand.’ Al­most at once the sweet peace that comes of per­fect as­sur­ance re­turned to my heart, and my gra­tit­ude for this ev­i­dence of an­swered pray­er sang it­self in the lines of the hymn.

Hold Thou my hand; so weak I am, and helpless,
I dare not take one step without Thy aid;
Hold Thou my hand; for then, O loving Savior,
No dread of ill shall make my soul afraid.

Hold Thou my hand, and closer, closer draw me
To Thy dear self—my hope, my joy, my all;
Hold Thou my hand, lest haply I should wander,
And, missing Thee, my trembling feet should fall.

Hold Thou my hand; the way is dark before me
Without the sunlight of Thy face divine;
But when by faith I catch its radiant glory,
What heights of joy, what rapturous songs are mine!

Hold Thou my hand, that when I reach the margin
Of that lone river Thou didst cross for me,
A heavenly light may flash along its waters,
And every wave like crystal bright shall be.