Written for One in Sore Pain

Shepherd, on before thy sheep,
  Hear thy lamb that bleats behind!
Scarce the track I stumbling keep!
  Through my thin fleece blows the wind!

Turn and see me, Son of Man!
  Turn and lift thy Father’s child;
Scarce I walk where once I ran:
  Carry me⁠—the wind is wild!

Thou art strong⁠—thy strength wilt share;
  My poor weight thou wilt not feel;
Weakness made thee strong to bear,
  Suffering made thee strong to heal!

I were still a wandering sheep
  But for thee, O Shepherd-man!
Following now, I faint, I weep,
  Yet I follow as I can!

Shepherd, if I fall and lie
  Moaning in the frosty wind,
Yet, I know, I shall not die⁠—
  Thou wilt miss me⁠—and wilt find!