The Lost Sheep
Thou grantest ease of heart, O Lord,
And them that wander in distress
Thou gatherest at thy knees . . .
Thou leadest thy lost sheep apart
Into the paths of pleasantness,
Into the paths of peace.
The Valley of Death was dim, O Light,
And vast the waste of vain desires
Where wandered mine unrest . . .
Thou camest o'er the mountain rim.
Thou foundest me amid the briers
To hush me on thy breast.
O calm, O joy, to lie, O Love,
One moment held against thy heart
In breathless rapt amaze! . . .
I dared to think that such as I
Should wander nevermore apart.
But pasture in thy rays.
The Valley of Death was cold, O Lord,
And far from thy paternal farms
I mourned and murmured there . . .
But how forsaken is the fold
Where, cast abandoned from thine arms,
I die of my despair!
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