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Shepherd! who with thine amorous, sylvan song
Hast broken the slumber that encompassed me, Who mad'st Thy crook from the accursed tree On which Thy powerful arms were stretched so long! Lead me to mercy's ever-flowing fountains; For Thou my shepherd, guard, and guide shalt be; I will obey Thy voice, and wait to see Thy feet all beautiful upon the mountains. Hear, Shepherd Thou who for Thy flock art dying, Oh, wash away these scarlet sins, for Thou Rejoicest at the contrite sinner's vow. Oh, wait! to Thee my weary soul is crying, Wait for me: Yet why ask it, when I see, With feet nailed to the cross, Thou'rt waiting still for me! Lope de Vega (1562 - 1635) (© Alix Ingber, 1995) |
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