Wood and meadows, hills and trees,
Witness bear with me;
Heard you not a pastor's prayer,
Marked his lonely plea;
Bowed beneath a midnightsky
Keeping faithful tryst,
Till I drew a meeting fair
Between my flock and Christ?
With the Angel there I strove,
Strove and did prevail,
Strengthened by the grace of God
That I might not fail.
Still for my poor flock I pray,
Lest the wolf devour
Or some hireling leave the sheep
In a needy hour.
God of pity, hear this plea
Humbly on You cast,
Bring them through a cloudy day
Safely home at last.
(Copyright Faith Cook 1989)
based on Letter 279 to Marion M'Naught: 'Pray for my poor flock....I fear that the entering of a hireling upon my labours there will cut off my life with sorrow. There I wrestled with the Angel and prevailed. Wood, trees, meadows and hills are my witnesses that I drew on a fair meeting betwixt Christ and Anwoth.'
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