Bishop of the souls of men,
When the foe­man’s step is nigh,
When the wolf lays wait by night
For the lambs con­tin­ual­ly,
Watch, O Lord, about us keep,
Guard us, Shep­herd of the sheep.

When the hire­ling flees away,
Caring on­ly for his gold,
And the gate un­guard­ed stands
At the en­trance to the fold,
Stand, O Lord, Thy flock be­fore
Thou the guard­ian, Thou the door.

Lord, whose guid­ing fin­ger ruled
In the cast­ing of the lot,
That Thy Church might fill the throne
Of the lost Is­ca­ri­ot,
In our trou­ble ev­er thus
Stand, good Mas­ter, nigh to us.

When the saints their or­der take
In the New Je­ru­sa­lem,
And Mat­thi­as stands elect,
Give us part and lot with him,
Where in Thine own dwell­ing place
We may wit­ness face to face.