Ye little flock whom Jesus feeds,
Dismiss your anxious cares;
Look to the Shepherd of your souls,
And smile away your fears.

Though wolves and lions prowl around,
His staff is your defense;
’Midst sands and rocks, your Shepherd’s voice,
Calls streams and pastures thence.

Your Father will a kingdom give,
And give it with delight;
His feeblest child His love shall call,
To triumph in His sight.

Ten thousand praises, Lord, we bring,
For sure supports like these;
And o’er the pious dead we sing,
Thy living promises.