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 here they be;
A wondrous feast thy love prepares
Bought with Thy wounds, and groans, and tears