A Shepherds Heart

He awakes as the dew drops flow
from lilies til the roosters crow.
Seldom ever will he rest,
for wolves are ever present tense.
Casting blows with staff in hand,
thieves from without invade his land.
Mangled palms, he pulls out tares
that steal away from rightful heirs.

His love for them will ever grow,
praising the One they've come to know.
When one falls he beats his breast,
Weeping over the sick and stressed.
When they leave to heavens land,
he cheers for they're in better hands.
As they feed on prairies shares,
He guides their paths from every snare. 

Through the valleys, peaks and snow,
tackling trials with hearts aglow.
Weary hands of ending quest,
his final days to be his best.
Ever seeking one who stands,
to keep his flock with gentle hands.
Now he within glory's square,
Heaven cheering this saint and heir.

He walks back to gates aglow,
In which he entered long ago.
Twas the day he entered rest,
clothed with heavens finest dress.
Looking over endless lands,
still waiting for his hearts demands.
Eyes afixed on glory's stairs,
the first to welcome friends and heirs.