He 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. Isaiah 40:11
Written after witnessing the death of Elizabeth Edwards, aged 12, of St. Nicholas, Worcester, and printed as a leaflet. Pub. in W. C. Wilson’s Bk. of General Psalmody, 1840; the Worcester Ps. & Hys., 1849; Life Echoes &c., 1883. The author also pub. a Memoir of the child.
Julian, p. 498
To praise our Shepherd’s care,
His wisdom, love, and might,
Your loudest, loftiest songs prepare,
And bid the world unite.
Supremely good and great,
He tends His blood-bought fold;
He stoops, though throned in highest state,
The feeblest to uphold.
He hears their softest plaint;
He sees them when they roam;
And if His meanest lamb should faint,
His bosom bears it home.
Kind Shepherd of the sheep!
A weary flock are we;
And snares and foes are nigh; but keep
The lambs who look to Thee.
And if through death’s dark vale
Our feet should early tread,
Oh, may we reach Thy fold, and hail
The love which us hath led!