Volume 16 / Part 4 — The See Of Peter.

Not unto hirelings, Prince of Shepherds, leave

This distant flock. The wolf, long kept at bay,

No longer in sheep's clothing seeks its prey,

Nor prowls at midnight round the fold's low eave,

Its weak, unwary victim to deceive;

But rampant in the flock at noon of day,

Careering leaps, to scatter, mangle, slay,

While from afar the banished shepherds grieve.

How long must sycophants wax blandly wise,

And meek-faced aspirants rebuke the cries

Of outraged faith! On Peter, “Feed my sheep,

My young lambs feed,” the charge benignant lies,

And we whose vigils cheat the night of sleep,

On Peter, still, calm eyes expectant keep.

[pg 648]