Jesus is our Shepherd, wiping every tear;

Folded in His bosom, what have we to fear?

Only let us follow whither He doth lead,

To the thirsty desert, or the dewy mead.

Jesus is our Shepherd: well we know his voice,

How its gentlest whisper makes our hearts rejoice;

Even when it chideth, tender is its tone;

None but He shall guide us! we are His alone.

Jesus is our Shepherd; for the sheep He bled;

Every lamb is sprinkled with the blood He shed:

Then on each he setteth His own secret sign;

“They that have my Spirit, these,” saith he, “are mine.”

Jesus is our Shepherd; guarded by His arm,

Though the wolves may raven, none can do us harm;

When we tread death’s valley, dark with fearful gloom,

We will fear no evil, victors o’er the tomb.

Jesus is our Shepherd, with His goodness now,

And His tender mercy, He doth us endow:

Let us sing his praises, with a gladsome heart,

Till in heaven we meet Him, never more to part.