Little Lamb, Who Made Thee?

Fred’s home sick now too. Soph continues to decline–but she’s such a sweet little trooper. Even tolerates the Zycam NOSE SWAB that neither Fred nor I will put up with.

And yes, I’m disinfecting everything and anything including our toothbrushes. AND thanking God for Aquaphor. (We love Aquaphor!)

Besides caring for an ailing family, I HAVE TO get a paid writing project done today–but other than that, I don’t have many goals for the day.

I don’t know why, but this morning I thought of one of the first poems I ever memorized as a brand-new baby Christian. I must’ve been, what? 14 or 15 years old?

“Little lamb, who made thee?
Dost thou know who made thee,
Gave thee life, and bade thee feed
By the stream and 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?

Little lamb, I’ll tell thee;
 Little lamb, I’ll tell thee:
He is called by thy name,
For He calls Himself a lamb,
He is meek, and He is mild,
He became a little child;
I a child, and thee a Lamb,
We are called by His Name.
Little lamb, God bless thee!
Little lamb, God bless thee!”

Preach it, Mssr. Blake!

Back to the battle–

Yours,
Tara B.