Like shepherds of that far-off Christmastide, May I, too, faithful unto duty be; Content with patient meekness to abide, Content with things that do belong to me, But never sleeping! Vigilant, awake, I boldly challenge with my shepherd's horn When danger lurks, whate'er the form it take; And so, serene and calm, I wait the morn. Thus let me watching be, when in the sky Comes glory that my humble sense transcends; Glory ineffable in heaven high, Glory which harmony and beauty blends, Glory which sheds upon my daily cares, As on the sheep of old, a radiant gleam; That beam of light each smallest duty shares, And fellow herdsmen like the angels seem.
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