SHEPHERD, with meek brow wreathed with blossoms sweet
Who guard'st thy timid flock with tenderest care —
Who guid'st in sunny paths their wandering feet, —
And the young lambs dost in thy bosom bear; —
Who lead'st thy happy flock to pastures fair,
And by still waters at the noon of day —
Charming with lute divine the silent air,
What time they linger on the verdant way; —
Good Shepherd! might one gentle distant strain
Of that immortal melody sink deep
Into my heart, and pierce its careless sleep,
And melt by powerful love its sevenfold chain —
Oh! then my soul thy voice should know, and flee
To mingle with thy flock, and ever follow Thee!
Who guard'st thy timid flock with tenderest care —
Who guid'st in sunny paths their wandering feet, —
And the young lambs dost in thy bosom bear; —
Who lead'st thy happy flock to pastures fair,
And by still waters at the noon of day —
Charming with lute divine the silent air,
What time they linger on the verdant way; —
Good Shepherd! might one gentle distant strain
Of that immortal melody sink deep
Into my heart, and pierce its careless sleep,
And melt by powerful love its sevenfold chain —
Oh! then my soul thy voice should know, and flee
To mingle with thy flock, and ever follow Thee!