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.
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