The Old Shepherd
The red sun will be setting soon;
my days are white as snow.
The angels call me from the sheep
and I must rise and go.
Then I myself will be a lamb
and seek the lowly stall
to where the Holy Shepherd comes
who to pasture leads us all.
I look once more at every lamb
my staff has guided tenderly.
Oh, what will become of them
when His horn sounds forth and beckons me?
Oh, let my tears come flowing down,
come my lambs come with me all;
Let us go to golden meadows
with the Shepherd in the stall.