KATHARINE TYNAN HINKSON

The sheep with their little lambs Pass'd me by on the road ;

All in an April evening

I thought on the Lamb of God.

The lambs were weary, and crying

With a weak human cry, I thought on the Lamb of God

Going meekly to die.

Up in the blue, blue mountains

Dewy pastures are sweet: Rest for the little bodies,

Rest for the little feet.

Rest for the Lamb of God

Up on the hill-top green, Only a cross of shame

Two stark crosses between.

All in the April evening,

April airs were abroad; I saw the sheep with their lambs,

And thought on the Lamb of God.

��FRANCES BANNERMAN

' I .! W.l

878. An Upper Chamber

F CAME into the City and none knew me;

A None came forth, none shouted 'He is here!

Not a hand with laurel would bestrew me, All the way by which I drew anear Night my banner, and my herald Fear.

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