Written For One In Sore Pain

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!