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Though sweet the shepherd calls and sings, and seared
below the pastures lie, Till in his arms his lambs he takes, along the dizzy
verge to go ; Then, heedless of the rifts and breaks, they follow on
o'er rock and snow.
And in those pastures, lifted fair, more dewy than the
lowland mead, The shepherd drops his tender care, and sheep and
lambs together feed.This parable, by Nature breathed, blew on me, as the
South-wind free O'er frozen brooks that flow, unsheathed from icy
thraldom, to the sea.
A blissful vision, through the night, would all my happy
senses sway Of the Good Shepherd, on the height, or climbing up
the starry way, Holding our little lamb asleep; while, like the murmur
of the sea,
Sounded that voice along the deep, saying “ Arise, and follow me!”