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 wondrous feast thy love prepares, Bought with Thy wounds and groans and tears.