Feed My Lambs


I meant to study all the week,

And very carefully prepare;

I meant to kneel–yes, every day,

And bear each pupil up in prayer.

But I was busy, and I found

So many things that I must do–

Important things, that could not wait–

The week was gone before I knew!

I meant to visit several homes,

And mail some cards to absentees,

To let them know that they were missed,

For such a word is sure to please

And often brings them quickly back;

But somehow every day went by

And not a single card I sent.

And now I ask, “Why didn’t I?”

And so this morning when I rose

I tried to study while I ate;

I briefly read my quarterly

And hurried out, five minutes late.

I found them singing, and I dropped,

Breathless, ashamed, into my seat–

For I intended to be there

That I the earliest child might greet.

Time for the lesson, and a group

Of eager voices beg their turn

To quote by heart the memory verse

Which I, alas, forget to learn!

And so I stumbled through the hour,

And built of stubble, hay, and wood

Instead of gold and precious stones,

And silver, as His servants should.

Go feed my lambs,” was His command;

And shall I hope for them to live

On little morsels such as this,

When mighty feasts are mine to give?

Forgive me, Lord, that I should treat

Thy Word in such a shameful way;

And may I never stand again,

Defeated, as I’ve done today.