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The Good Shepherd

by William Edensor Littlewood

Into a desolate land
White with the drifted snow,
Into a weary land
Our truant footsteps go:
Yet doth Thy care, O Father,
Ever Thy wanderers keep;
Still doth Thy love, O Shepherd,
Follow Thy sheep.

Over the pathless wild
Do I not see Him come?
Him who shall bear me back,
Him who shall lead me home?
Listen! between the storm-gusts
Unto the straining ear,
Comes not the cheering whisper,—
"Jesus is near."

Over me He is bending!
Now I can safely rest,
Found at the last, and clinging
Close to the Shepherd's breast:
So let me lie till the fold-bells
Sound on the homeward track,
And the rejoicing angels
Welcome us back!

10Behold, the Lord GOD will come with strong hand, and his arm shall rule for him: behold, his reward is with him, and his work before him. 

11He shall feed his flock like a shepherd: he shall gather the lambs with his arm, and carry them in his bosom, and shall gently lead those that are with young.

12Who hath measured the waters in the hollow of his hand, and meted out heaven with the span, and comprehended the dust of the earth in a measure, and weighed the mountains in scales, and the hills in a balance?

– Isaiah 40:10-12

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