1 Gentle Shepherd, Thou hast still'd
Now Thy little lamb’s last weeping;
Ah! how peaceful, pale and mild
In its narrow bed ’tis sleeping!
And no sigh of anguish sore
Heaves that little bosom more.

2 In this world of care and pain,
Lord, Thou wouldst no longer leave it;
To the sunny heavenly plain
Dost Thou now in joy receive it;
Clothed in robes of spotless white,
Now it dwells with Thee in light.