The winds that once beat against  my door ,
which never give me rest .


For in the darkest hours thou watches over me
as wicker shapes that bends the bark ,
with which no  winds so foul should bear ,

and though this  roof. may   have holes. to mend ,
as he bangs and saws and threads ,
so that I am tempted not ,
Tis with these cloven hooves I tred
to mountainous pastures far away ,
to where no green grass is fed .

For he doth careth for
the blind ,
the sick ,
and the lame ,
those who do  not envy strife ,
yet brings not home it’s shame.

But in quiet pastures gently lays
he puts an end to war .
When  fierce wolves and dogs ,
take the shepherd from the door .

As darkness feasts upon the lamb ,
on hill tops far away ,
for danger is forever near ,
on cliffs tops ,
Left to die ?
No not I,
for it is in truth the good shepherd spake .
For all is said and done ,
and evening prayers are said ,
which quell the widows troubled brow ,
and holds fast the rebel tongue .
So as candel  light adorns the window frame ,
and waits for loved ones to appear ,
they know not how or when ,
When the day is done ,
and nightly clouds ,
draw ever near .
loved ones from out of the shadows shall appear                              from every field and farrow ,
the blind ,
the frail ,
and the lame .
O good shepherd won’t you guide me
home this very hour ,
to seek thy face again .