Sonnets XCIV

Have pity, Holy One, on those who stray!
Thou kind and loving Shepherd, fetch Thou home
The rebel-flocks who in the desert roam:
Fair is the sky as yet, and smooth the way, —
But soon shall darkness gather o'er the day:
Then where shall be the voice that aim'd to teach,
The guides self-chosen, who did smooth things preach,
The men of many words, unused to pray?
Didst Thou not give Thy life for them, O Lord?
Open their blinded eyes that they may see;
Turn them from self to look alone on Thee;
Show them the living wonders of Thy word;
Let cries of triumph through Thy Church be heard —
'He that was lost is found, the slave is free!'