My flock huddles in the rain
Grass changed to mire
Where do I take them
Where is it safe
In the darkness
One by one
They slip away
Lost to me
The hand of the Great Shepherd
Rests on my shoulder, “The end has come,
They’ve found their new pasture
Come, let me lead you to yours.”
(c) Ruth Jewell, February 22, 2010
A Quiet Walk 
I hear your worry about your congregation here. The comfort is that not one will slip away shepherd-less. The shepherd always provides.
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