Thou whom my soul admires above
All earthly joy and earthly love,
Tell me, dear Shepherd! let me know
Where do Thy sweetest pastures grow?
Where is the shadow of that rock
That from the sun defends Thy flock?
Fain would I feed among Thy sheep,
Among them rest, among them sleep.
Why should Thy bride appear like one
That turns aside to paths unknown?
My constant feet would never rove,
Would never seek another love.
The footsteps of Thy flock I see;
Thy sweetest pastures comfort me:
A wonderous feast they prepare,
Bought with Thy wounds and groans and tears.