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

2 Tho' wolves and lions prowl around,
His staff is your defence:
’Midst sands and rocks your shepherd’s voice
Calls streams and pastures thence.

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

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

5 For all we hope, and they enjoy
We bless a Saviour's name;
Nor shall that stroke disturb the song,
Which breaks this mortal frame.