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 heart rejoice;

Even when He chideth, tender is His 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 ravin, 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.