Shepherd of souls, with pitying eye
The thousands of our Israel see:
To Thee, in their behalf we cry,
Ourselves but newly found in Thee.

See, where o’er desert wastes they err,
And neither food nor feeder have,
Nor fold, nor place of refuge near;
For no man cares their souls to save.

Thy people, Lord, are sold for naught,
Nor know they their Re­deem­er nigh;
They perish, whom Thy­self hast bought;
Their souls for lack of knowledge die.

The pit its mouth hath opened wide,
To swallow up its careless prey;
Why should they die, when Thou hast died,
Hast died to bear their sins away?

Why should the foe Thy purchase seize?
Remember, Lord, Thy dying groans:
The meed of all Thy sufferings these;
O claim them for Thy ransomed ones!

Extend to these Thy pardoning grace;
To these be Thy sal­va­tion showed:
O add them to Thy chosen race!
O sprinkle all their hearts with blood!

Still let the publicans draw near:
Open the door of faith and Hea­ven;
And grant their hearts Thy word to hear,
And witness all their sins forgiven.