My shep­herd is the Lamb,
The liv­ing Lord who died;
With all things good I ev­er am
By Him sup­plied.
He rich­ly feeds my soul
With bless­ings from above,
And leads me where the ri­vers roll
Of end­less love.

My soul He doth re­store
Whene’er I go as­tray;
He makes my cup of joy run o’er
From day to day;
His love, so full, so free,
Anoints my head with oil;
Mercy and good­ness fol­low me,
Fruit of His toil.

When faith and hope shall cease,
And love abide alone,
Then shall I see Him face to face,
And know as known.
Still shall I lift my voice,
His praise my song shall be;
And I will in His love re­joice
Who died for me.