When wolves and tygers 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, Recieve each mild spirit, New worlds to inherit. And there the lions 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, Is 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 lifes river, My bright mane for ever, Shall shine like the gold, As I guard o'er the fold.