Thou art my shep­herd,
Caring in ev­ery need,
Thy lov­ing lamb to feed,
Trusting Thee still.
In the green pas­tures low,
Where liv­ing wa­ters flow,
Safe by Thy side I go,
Fearing no ill.

Or if my way lie
Where storms are rag­ing nigh,
Nothing can ter­ri­fy,
I trust Thee still.
How can I be afraid,
While soft­ly on my head
Thy ten­der hand is laid?
I fear no ill.

Goodness and mer­cy
Ever shall fol­low me,
Till by Thy grace I see
Thy holy hill;
Lord, in that home with Thee,
Joyful eter­nal­ly,
Folded Thy flock shall be,
Safe from all ill.