Shepherd of the sheep,
To whom God gives the universal charge,
I think of Thy devotion and I weep,
Thy love appears so large!
And I think of all
The grief which strengthened Thy exalting hand,
Until great tears of Easter gladness fall,
To think in Thee I stand,
Out of whose great heart
So glorious is death's sacrificial knife--
To think I know Thee now somewhat, who art
The way, the truth, the life;
Who art with Thine own,
Where Thou hast been through immemorial years,
In every touch of consolation known,
In every flood of tears.
* * * * *
The Way of the Lord.
I cast my lot with the surging world,
To find out the way of the Lord;
A pebble hither and thither hurled,
To find out the way of the Lord.
I sought where the foot of man was unknown,
To find out the way of the Lord;
In the desert alone, alone, alone,
To find out the way of the Lord.
I bowed my heart to the voice of the sea,
To find out the way of the Lord;
To the sob of unuttered mystery,
To find out the way of the Lord.
I went down into the depths of my soul,
To find out the way of the Lord;
Down where the years of eternity roll,
To find out the way of the Lord.
Ah, me! I had no interpreter
To tell me the way of the Lord;
For Nature, it was not in her
To tell me the way of the Lord.
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