WILLIAM BLAKE

If they see any weeping That should have been sleeping, They pour sleep on their head, And sit down by their bed.

When wolves and tigers howl for prey,

They pitying stand and weep, Seeking to drive their thirst away And keep them from the sheep. But, if they rush dreadful, The angels, most heedful, Receive each mild spirit, New worlds to inherit.

And there the lion's ruddy eyes Shall flow with tears of gold : And pitying the tender cries, And walking round the fold:

Saying, 'Wrath by His meekness, And, by His health, sickness, Are driven away From our immortal day.

'And now beside thee, bleating lamb,

I can lie down and sleep, Or think on Him who bore thy name, Graze after thee, and weep. For, wash'd in life's river, My bright mane for ever Shall shine like the gold As I guard o'er the fold/

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