No author attributed here, and an internet search came up with a few exerpts from this prose, but no author.
In pastures green? Not always, sometimes He
Who knoweth best, in kindness leadeth me
In weary ways where heavy shadows be.
Out of the sunshine, warm and soft and bright;
Out of the sunshine into darkest night;
I oft would faint with sorrow and afright.
Only for this I know (He holds my hand);
So whether in the green or desert land,
I trust, although I many not understand.
And by still waters? No not always so!
Oft times the heavy tempests round me blow
And o'er my soul the waves and billows go.
But when the storm beats loudest and I cry
Aloud for help, the Master standeth by,
And whispers to my soul "Lo, it is I."
Above the tempest I hear him say.
"Beyond the darkness lies the perfect day.
In every path of thine I lead the way--."
So, whether on the hilltops 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.
So where He leads me, I can safely go,
And in the blest hereafter I shall know
Why in His wisdom he hath led me so.