Through the valley of death, in darkest deep,
Where enemies never tire, nor sleep,
And with scornful eyes roam mountains steep,
Awaiting their chance to strike with fear;
To scatter the flock as doubt draws near.
With blazing heart and vision clear,
The shepherd speaks, 'Stay true, my dear.'
By flaming staff, the shadows run.
The night is chased, 'Behold the sun!'
A path is lit - The narrow Way.
Not one is lost - Not one shall stray.
