My soul, with joy attend
While Jesus silence breaks;
No angel’s harp such music yields,
As what my Shepherd speaks.

I know My sheep, He cries,
‟My soul approves them well;
Vain is the treacherous world’s disguise,
And vain the rage of hell.

I freely feed them now
With tokens of My love,
But richer pastures I prepare
And sweeter streams above.

Unnumbered years of bliss
I to My sheep will give;
And, while My throne unshaken stands,
Shall all My chosen live.

This tried almighty hand
Is raised for their defense:
Where is the power shall reach them there?
Or what shall force them thence?

Enough, my gracious Lord,
Let faith triumphant cry;
My heart can on this promise live,
Can on this promise die.