“His own,” how sweet the portion,
His people thence can claim,
Though in the world, not of it,
Their’s is no earthly name.
“His own,” how loved and tended,
How cared for, shepherded;
How called, and sealed, and folded,
How tenderly they’re led.
“Green pastures” and “still waters,”
“His own” by Him supplied;
Their daily desert journey take,
With Jesus as their guide;
“His own,” though often straying,
And wandering from the way,
Restored by His sweet presence,
Are kept from day to day.
“His own.” They long to see Thee,
“Chief Shepherd” of the sheep;
For whom the “crown of glory,”
Thy ceaseless love doth keep.
‘Tis not the crown they watch for,
“His own” the Lord will claim;
The sharers of His glory,
They’ll praise His matchless name!