Shepherd Of Israel.

A poem by Eliza Paul Kirkbride Gurney

Shepherd of Israel! o'er Thy fold
How sweet Thy guardian care,
To them invisible indeed,
Yet present everywhere.

Thy crook still points to "pastures green,"
When rugged paths they see,
Beside "still waters" bids them rest,
And cast their care on Thee.

The "stranger's voice" thou, Lord, canst teach
Their watchful ears to know,
And make their "peace," their heavenly peace,
Like boundless waters flow.

When round this thorny world we stray
And find no place of rest,
Then come like "doves unto the ark,"
Faint, wearied, and oppressed,

Thy gentle hand is soon put forth
Each wanderer to receive;
Thou bindest up the broken heart,
And bidd'st the sinner live.

Why should we fear the storms of time?
Thy word their force can stay;
Enough, be still! the high behest,
Which winds and waves obey.

"Thy will be done" can calm the soul
By fearful tempests driven,
The holiest anthem sung on earth,
The highest heard in Heaven.

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