In fields of grace, where whispers sing,
The gentle shepherd walks with love.
His hands, a balm to souls that cling,
Guiding hearts to skies above.

Amidst the storm, His voice resounds,
A beacon through the darkest night.
In shadows deep, His love surrounds,
Turning fear to wondrous light.

With open arms, He calls the lost,
A refuge for the weary soul.
A sacrifice, no matter the cost,
In His embrace, we find our whole.

Through valleys low and mountains high,
His presence never fades away.
In every tear, in every sigh,
His love remains, come what may.