The Good Shepherd (Slusser)

When the wea­ry tasks of the day are done

And our spir­its wel­come the set­ting sun

In the twi­light hush

lo!

The good Shep­herd stands

call­ing

call­ing:

I am the door

I am the door;

You are bruis­èd

ye are thirs­ty;

Come

be healed and re­freshed

And go in and out

and find pas­ture.

Oh

the path was rough

and our hearts are sore

For we lost the way

with the load we bore;

Blessèd sha­dows

fall

for

The good Shep­herd stands

call­ing

call­ing:

Oh

the blind­ing dust and the cru­el thorn!

Is there room for such a torn

black­ened form?

Hark! I hear my name

for

The good Shep­herd stands

call­ing

call­ing:

Oh

He knows the thorns

for they pierced His brow

Yet He loved men then

and He loves us now

Spite of stain and sin: still

The good Shep­herd stands

call­ing

call­ing: