God has called many following the sheep,
Some to be kings and princes among men,
And you He called; and Skiddaw’s hollow glen
Mourns for its bravest shepherd fallen asleep;
But we who knew you still your memory keep,
And at the shearing-time, beside the pen,
Though gone for ever from our mortal ken,
Your cheery voice will call us up the steep.
For you have climbed the road that leads to heaven,
The simple road of toil and self-denied,
Of duty done to the far wandering flocks
In dewy cold, hot noons, and stormy even;
And somewhere He, Whose feet among the rocks
For us were red, shall lead us to your side.
(English Lakes Visitor and Keswick Guardian, 28 March 1891, p. 5)