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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!”




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