My children learned a poem written by William Blake when they were young called "The Lamb". It was brought to my mind today because I got to feed some "orphaned" lambs at Fred and Kathy's place. I rode with Fred and his helper, April, to the barn where the five lambs are kept. As we approached the building I heard the hungry lambs bleating, which sounded like babies crying. Their mothers had either rejected them or didn't have enough milk for them. The one on the right in this picture was knocked over by its mother after its birth and lay in a dish of water until it was found. Little hope was held out for its survival, but today, less than two weeks later, it's doing well.
I wonder if Micah and Audrey still remember this poem?
Little Lamb, who made thee?
Dost thou know who made thee?
Gave thee life, & bid thee feed
By the stream & o'er the mead;
Gave thee clothing of delight;
Softest clothing, wooly, bright;
Gave thee such a tender voice,
Making all the vales rejoice?
Little Lamb, who made thee?
Dost thou know who made thee?
1 comment:
I love pictures of lambs - so sweet. I lived on a sheep farm in college so was mad at God for years because He said we were like sheep :)
Post a Comment