Tender Christian

Tender Christian, you are startled in the fold
By mild controversy, either young or very old.
There you stand, a sheep in pasture, grazing on your cud.
You do not, oh you do not, you do not like the mud.

You are there, with your fleece, that warms your pastoral care
And he feeds you with the finest grains, and with you love doth share.
Tender and timid, in the barn, you shy away from another voice.
Yes, every change to the world, you look to your Shepherd's joy.

You are very timid, and very tame, and will not come well nigh...
You do not like things to change, and you are not very wise.
You need to be led, and tenderly tapped, by the shepherd's instrument
And the wolves, the wolves, they need to be whacked.

Yet, every once in a while, one of you wanders from the fold
And you get dirty and muddy, and your black fleece gets very grown.
And with your long nails, and with your clot back, you bleat for help I see;
For the shepherds keep, oh how the shepherds keep, they keep changing everything.

You like consistency, and to be fed your grains, and to be given your good food.
You like to labor at the yard, and eat the grassy good.
You do not like new routines, or new undershepherds in your yard.
You like everything to remain the same, so you do not wander very far.