Great Shep­herd of Thine Is­ra­el,
Who didst be­tween the che­rubs dwell,
And lead the tribes, Thy chos­en sheep,
Safe through the de­sert and the deep.

Thy Church is in the de­sert now,
Shine from on high and guide us through;
Turn us to Thee, Thy love re­store,
We shall be saved and sigh no more.

Great God, whom heav’n­ly hosts ob­ey,
How long shall we la­ment and pray,
And wait in vain Thy kind re­turn?
How long shall Thy fierce an­ger burn?

Instead of wine and cheer­ful bread
Thy saints with their own tears are fed:
Turn us to Thee, Thy love re­store,
We shall be saved, and sigh no more.

Hast thou not plant­ed with Thy hands
A love­ly vine in hea­then lands?
Did not Thy pow­er de­fend it round,
And heav’n­ly dews en­rich the ground?

How did the spread­ing branch­es shoot,
And bless the na­tions with the fruit!
But now, dear Lord, look down and see
Thy mourn­ing vine, that love­ly tree.

Why is its beau­ty thus de­faced?
Why hast Thou laid her fenc­es waste?
Strangers and foes against her join,
And ev­ery beast de­vours the vine.

Return, Almigh­ty God, re­turn,
Nor let Thy bleed­ing vine­yard mourn;
Turn us to Thee, Thy love re­store,
We shall be saved, and sigh no more.

Lord, when this vine in Ca­naan grew,
Thou wast its strength and glo­ry too;
Attacked in vain by all its foes,
Till the fair Branch of Pro­mise rose:

Fair Branch, or­dained of old to shoot
From Da­vid’s stock, from Ja­cob’s root;
Himself a no­ble vine, and we
The less­er branch­es of the tree.

’Tis Thy own Son; and He shall stand
Girt with Thy strength at Thy right hand;
Thy first-born Son, adorned and blest
With pow­er and grace above the rest.

O for His sake at­tend our cry,
Shine on Thy church­es lest they die;
Turn us to Thee, Thy love re­store,
We shall be saved, and sigh no more.