O Shepherd of the sheep,
High Priest of things to come,
Who didst in grace Thy ser­vant keep,
And take him safe­ly home;

Accept our song of praise
For all his ho­ly care,
His zeal un­quenched through length of days,
The tri­als that he bare.

Chief of Thy faith­ful band,
He held him­self the least,
Though Thy dread keys were in his hand,
O ev­er­last­ing Priest.

So, trust­ing in Thy might,
He won a fair re­nown;
So, wax­ing val­iant in the fight,
He trod the li­on down.

Then ren­dered up to Thee
The charge Thy love had giv­en,
And passed away Thy face to see
Revealed in high­est Heav’n.

On all our bi­shops pour
The Spir­it of Thy grace;
That, as he won the palm of yore,
So they may run their race.

That, when this life is done,
They may with him ad­ore
The ev­er bless­èd Three in One,
In bliss for­ev­er­more.