417. Tender Shepherd, Thou hast stilled

Tender Shepherd, Thou hast stilled

Now Thy little lamb's brief weeping;

Ah, how peaceful, pale, and mild,

In its narrow bed 'tis sleeping,

And no sigh of anguish sore

Heaves that little bosom more.'

In this world of care and pain,

Lord, Thou wouldst no longer leave it;

To the sunny, heavenly plain

Thou dost now with joy receive it;

Clothed in robes of spotless white

Now it dwells with Thee in light.

Ah, Lord Jesu, grant that we

Where it lives may soon be living,

And the lovely pastures see

That its heavenly food are giving;

Then the gain of death we prove,

Though Thou take what most we love.

Jaxtast