Every morning the dawn finds you,
on the hill with crook in hand;
watching over your master's herds,
in this pagan, foreign land.
Trusting God to show you His light,
guarding the sheep every day.
Still on the hill you are come darkness,
and through the night there you stay.
Grasping always unto your faith,
trusting God to show the way;
one day His light shines through your darkness.
An angel standing bright as day.