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.