How doth the merry little lamb
     Whose fleece is white as snow,
And who was born a very ram,
     A-frolic to and fro.

He sports and plays, doth safely graze,
     And spots a busy bee;
And for a moment he doth chase
     The bug with mirthful glee.

A moment more, he's crying out,
     And bleating with dismay.
The bee has stung him on the snout
     And marred his splendid day!

Beware, the bee is only friend
     To others of his kind.
The stinger on his latter end
     Was made for lambs to mind.

'I'll live with Thee and be Thy love,'
I said to God, who, as a dove,
Did build a Nest within my Heart,
And who from me shall ne'er depart.

He gardens, farms, and tends a flock
Of silly sheep of spotless stock;
Secure beneath the Shepherd's gaze,
The sheep do roam and safely graze.  

He made for me a robe of wool,
The finest wool that He could pull:
It's snowy white, like Winter's breast:
In spotless wool He hath me drest.  

He makes the Sun to rise and shine,
And turns the fruit of life to wine,
And shares the Vintage when we sup,
And fills, and fills again, my cup.

For Him I sing a song that's new,
Falero, lero, lero, loo!
I pluck a string, and raise my voice,
And alway in the Lord rejoice.

My true love hath my heart, and I
Have His, because I heard on high
His wooing voice, which did me move
To live with Him and be His love.

The Holy Bible, th'historie of man,
     And God and man, and God as man on earth;
     The true account of how the world began;
The treasure mapp that leades to love and mirth;
The looking glasse wherein is seene the faire
     Image of God, and all mans ugly sinnes;
     The written word of God for ev'ry heir
Of saving grace who runnes the race and winnes;
The booke of lyfe writ in my Saviours bloud,
     Dictated by the Spirits whisper'd breath;
     The foil for ev'ry curse; the cure for death;
The greatest booke about the greatest good;
     The pasture for the sheepe; the sheepefold rod;
     Manna from heav'n; the ladder up to God.

Beneath the fair blue face of Heaven, harp
In hand, a shepherd flats an A that's sharp.
He plucks and tunes and finds the perfect pitch
And plays a harmony exceeding rich.
The afternoon is hot, and all the sheep
Are full of grass and falling fast asleep.
Cotton ball clouds go slowly floating by
While drowsy songbirds neither sing nor fly.
Even the shiny fish in waters cool
Nap in the cooler shadows in the pool.
Save for the sound of rills that gently spill,
All things are silent.  Everything is still.
     So too a watchful lion keeping eyes
Upon a ewe lamb dozing where she lies.
As still as stone he stalks his sleepy prey:
He's waited patiently the livelong day.
And now the time has come to work his plan,
While most at ease is bird and beast and man.
He takes the first small steps in his approach,
Then breaks into a run and makes the poach.
Bewildered sheep in panic loudly bleat—
Asleep to wide awake in one heartbeat!
The shepherd's senses rush, and running down
The brute, he smites the beast upon his crown.
Dazed and confused, the lion drops the lamb
That lives but by the grace of Him, I AM.
The shepherd grabs the lion's beard, and, hair
In hand, he slays him (as he'll slay a bear.)  
     Returning safe the lamb unto the flock,
The shepherd goes and stands upon a rock.
He lifts his hands to God, and, singing psalms
Of praise, he gives the LORD his weather'd palms.
Cotton ball clouds go slowly floating by
As stars begin to twinkle in the sky.

Water to wine and wine to precious blood
The Lord transfigures; taken at the flood,
    The dregs of outrageous fortune, once imbibed,
Will be like compost to a growing bud.  

So, drink and happy be, for all is well
In Paradise, where living waters swell
    The stilly stream by quiet pastures green,
And sheep in peace and pleasant weather dwell.