Classic Poem

O shepherd of the wandering sheep,
Who, when Thy little lambs would stray,
Dost seek them on the thorny steep,
And in Thy bosom dost them lay,—

We hear Thy call, Thy voice we know,
And follow on to pastures fair,
To hills where streams of blessings flow,
And fain would lead Thy children there;

And guide them on from font to shrine,
Ev'n from the grave of their new birth
To altar-feast of bread and wine,
To God from man, to heaven from earth;

And teach them words of love and truth,
And holy living, pure and high—
A present thought of God in youth,
A comfort when they come to die—

By hymns that swell and soar above,
By Christian doctrine duly taught,
By tender tales of that dear love,
And death whereby our life was bought.

And if some works be hard and cold,
And young little alter o'er the line,
They are but rugged husks that hold
A fruit of saviour most divine.

And if our eyes no harvest see,
Still, Christ in heaven! Thy word has might;
And still the cup we give for Thee
Is brimm'd with beads of living light.

O Shepherd of the wandering sheep!
O Lover of the Lambs! We pray,
The learners and the teachers keep
Safe in Thy sheltering arms alway.