Poetry Archives

Shepherd, on before thy sheep,
    Hear thy lamb that bleats behind!
Scarce the track I stumbling keep!
    Through my thin fleece blows the wind!

Turn and see me, Son of Man!
    Turn and lift thy Father’s child;
Scarce I walk where once I ran:
    Carry me—the wind is wild!

Thou art strong—thy strength wilt share;
    My poor weight thou wilt not feel;
Weakness made thee strong to bear,
    Suffering made thee strong to heal!

I were still a wandering sheep
    But for thee, O Shepherd-man!
Following now, I faint, I weep,
    Yet I follow as I can!

Shepherd, if I fall and lie
    Moaning in the frosty wind,
Yet, I know, I shall not die—
    Thou wilt miss me—and wilt find!