Good Shepherd, wilt thou leave
In this low vale the flock that was thy care
Alone to pine and grieve,
While through the purer air
Thou risest up to fields forever fair?

They who, supremely blest,
Until the dawn of this unhappy day
Leaned on thy loving breast,
To whom on earth shall they
Hearken or look when thou art far away?

What comeliness or grace
Can they whose eyes beheld thy beauty see
In other form or face?
What music will not be
Harsh to the ears that hearkened once to thee?

Who now upon the deep
Shall look, and curb its fury? Who shall lay
The stormy winds asleep?
What lode-star's friendly ray,
When thine is hid, shall guide the vessel's way?

Why change our happy state,
O envious cloud! to helplessness and fear?
How proud of their rich freight
Thy shining folds appear!
How blind and wretched thou dost leave us here!