Poetry: The Shepherd, Not The Sheep

Now I lay me down to sleep,

But sleep won’t come how e’er much I try;

So I start to count down the sheep,

But they keep skipping away, so spry.

So I say, in despair, oh my lordy!

When lo and behold, a Voice says, Yes.

I sit up in surprise and exclaim, Holy!

The Voice replies, Indeed, and bless.

I look all around and ask, who’s there?

The Voice replies, ’tis Me, my own.

I say, come forth if you care,

And see me as I am worn.

What seeks you, the Voice asks,

Oh not much, just sleep, I say.

Then speak with Me, the Voice tasks,

Then slumber you will as you lay.

But how, I doubt as I hope to be heard,

Can I sleep when with You I speak,

The Voice replies, I am the Shepherd,

I will give you rest that you seek.

So I talk, my heart with wonder,

Of the Shepherd, He stays with me,

And as we speak I begin to slumber,

My eyes close upon His Face I see.

So friend when you tire in body and soul,

And rest is all you need and seek,

Count not the sheep, they are not whole,

To the Shepherd instead you must speak.

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