Poetry

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Little sheep, why are your eyes so sad?
Do you KNOW who the shepherd is?
Your frown is soul deep
It seems to fragment any peace you had

Has Jesus become a cardboard image
Pasted on the occluded windows of your mind
Please know that He still heals
Destroying sin, fear and strongholds
While restoring sight to the blind

Little sheep, little sheep, you talk so dazed
Jesus within me weeps
And I find myself reaching out
Wanting to share with you His measureless love

Do you want to know the living Christ
Or has the enemy so weighed down your mind
That the wisdom of the world
Is all you register any more?

How can I reach you
What can my lips say
To jolt you from your despondency?
Nothing of any import or effect
Except that which Christ in me
Speaks to you through His Spirit

Compassionately, Jesus, I pray
To love this little sheep
With Your love
Without regard for personal end
Go before and prepare the way
Within me and your drifting child

Gentle shepherd, gentle shepherd
Will he turn again
And allow himself to be tended
By You?
This is my fervent prayer.

(C) Marijo Phelps all rights reserved. Use with with proper credits.

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