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 will share;
My poor weight Thou will 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 will miss me. . . and will find!
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