The sheep will know the Shepherd's voice,
be led to living brook and lea
in valleys green with all good things,
their hearts to know satiety.
They quench their thirst by shaded springs
and never fail for want, but blest
to enter His untroubled fold,
lay down their heads in easy rest.
The flock will know the Shepherd's voice
and through the vale of doubt and dread
no stone will turn beneath their hoof
nor chasm snare them, faithfully led.
Their wending, narrow way is proof
against the sucking bog and mire;
nor hungry darkness swallow those
who trace the Shepherd's lantern-fire.
A lamb will know his Shepherd's voice
and heed no stranger's thieving tongue.
He, taught his own peculiar name,
leaps joyfully to hear it sung.
Nor wanders far to guilt and shame -
a gentle staff corrects his head
to fields where lost and rescued lambs
before him have been safely led.
The wolves sure know the Shepherd's voice -
they howl in trembling fear and rage.
Their flanks have felt His staff and sling,
bear wounds no balm can e'er assuage.
He spoke to spoil their gnash and sting,
He sings and scatters wide their horde!
No precious lamb have they devoured;
Their teeth have shattered on His Word.
The Lamb did know His Shepherd's voice -
loved hearing it, loved to obey.
Silent, raised no complaining bleat,
nor from His holy side could stray
ere, found both flawless and complete,
The Shepherd gave Him to the Priest
who proffered, one and once for all,
a fragrant, flaming altar-feast.
~
AMDG
11.4.18
