 | Lyra Pastoralis |  |
81
The Highland Shepherd
Belated on a rough and lonely shore,Where trees and heathery crags obscured my way,
I met a shepherd in the gloaming grey,
And rocks and thickets troubled me no more.
His beckoning form, that moves along before,
My trusting feet implicitly obey,
O'er bank and burn; until, through birchen spray,
The friendly lights gleam by the sheltering door.
So, as with faltering steps, through pathways dim,
This twilight of mortality I trod,
A Shepherd found me, and I clave to Him;
I wholly trust His love and guiding rod,
And follow, where He leads, with gladsome hymn,
Until He brings me home to Heaven and God!
| Lyra Pastoralis | |