SHEEP—SHEPHERD.
The Lord is my shepherd; I shall not want.
He maketh me to lie down in green pastures: he leadeth me beside the still waters.—Psalm xxiii. 1, 2.
All we like sheep have gone astray; we have turned every one to his own way.—Isaiah, liii. 6.
Then said Jesus, I am the good shepherd and know my sheep, and am known of mine.
As the Father knoweth me, even so know I the Father: and I lay down my life for the sheep.—John, x. 7, 14, 15.
’Tis said, that God is a consuming fire,
But oh! ’tis sure, He now lays by his ire:
He thunders out,
With trumpet’s shout,
No judgment from Mount Sinai; but a still
Soft voice of love and free good will:
He that appear’d then in a warlike dress,
Seeks now the stray sheep in the wilderness.
P. Fletcher.
Lamb of Jesus’ blood-bought flock,
Brought again from sin and straying!
Hear the Shepherd’s gentle voice,
’Tis a true and faithful saying—
“Greater love how can there be
Than to yield up life for thee!
Bought with pang, and tear, and sigh,
Turn and live! why will ye die?”
Bishop Doane.
And dost Thou, Holy Shepherd, leave
Thine unprotected flock alone,
Here in this darksome vale to grieve,
While Thou ascend’st Thy glorious throne?
Oh, where can they their hopes now turn,
Who never lived but on Thy love?
Where rest the hearts for Thee that burn,
When Thou art lost in light above?
How shall those eyes now find repose
That turn in vain Thy smile to see?
What can they hear save mortal woes,
And who shall lay his tranquil hand
Upon the troubled ocean’s might?
Who hush the winds by His command?
Who guide us through this starless night?
For Thou art gone!—that cloud so bright,
That bears Thee from our love away,
Springs upwards through the dazzling light,
And leaves us here to weep and pray.
From the Spanish of Luis Ponce de Leon.
The Lord my pasture shall prepare,
And feed me with a shepherd’s care;
His presence shall my wants supply,
And guard me with a watchful eye;
My noonday walks He shall attend,
And all my midnight hours defend.
When in the sultry glebe I faint,
Or on the thirsty mountains pant;
To fertile vales and dewy meads
My weary wandering steps He leads;
Where peaceful rivers, soft and slow,
Amid the verdant landscape flow.
Though in the paths of death I tread,
With gloomy horrors overspread,
My steadfast heart shall fear no ill,
For Thou, O Lord, art with me still;
Thy friendly crook shall give me aid,
And guide me through the dreadful shade.
Though in a bare and rugged way,
Through devious lonely wilds I stray,
Thy bounty shall my wants beguile,
The barren wilderness shall smile,
With sudden greens and herbage crown’d,
And streams shall murmur all around.
Addison.
The Lord is my shepherd, no want shall I know,
I feed in green pastures, safe-folded I rest;
He leadeth my soul where the still waters flow,
Restores me when wandering, redeems when opprest.
J. Montgomery.