 | Mystic Trees |  |
86
A VERT SUNDAY
These are the pastures green,
And this the pleasaunce is;
The Shepherd here is seen
Without His offices.
And this the pleasaunce is;
The Shepherd here is seen
Without His offices.
He doth not shew the way:
With hands between His knees,
He sitteth down to pray—
The sheep rove as they please.
With hands between His knees,
He sitteth down to pray—
The sheep rove as they please.
What fountains of pure face,
What streaks of pasture rare
They find in hiding-place!
The Shepherd is not there.
What streaks of pasture rare
They find in hiding-place!
The Shepherd is not there.
They drink of many a brook
Of which He hath not told;
Then gather to the crook,
Then gather to the fold.
Of which He hath not told;
Then gather to the crook,
Then gather to the fold.
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