Mrs. Elizabeth Fries Ellet (1818–1877)

SHEPHERD, with meek brow wreathed with blossoms sweet,

Who guard’st thy timid flock with tenderest care;

Who guid’st in sunny paths their wandering feet,

And the young lambs dost in thy bosom bear;

Who lead’st thy happy flock to pastures fair,

And by still waters at the noon of day,

Charming with lute divine the silent air,

What time they linger on the verdant way;—

Good Shepherd! might one gentle distant strain

Of that immortal melody sink deep

Into my heart, and pierce its careless sleep,

And melt by powerful love its sevenfold chain,—

O, then my soul thy voice should know, and flee

To mingle with thy flock, and ever follow thee.