Flitwit was always rambling close to the edge of the flock,
and Shep, ever patient, ever kind, was always wrangling him back into the fold.
One fine, sunshiny afternoon, the wayward lamblet finally gave the good shepherd
the slip, wandering off into the wrinkly foothills, dangerously close to
whiskery country. Shep, never one to panic, ordered his trusty hound to keep an
eye on the rest of the flock and set off in calm, swift pursuit. Before long,
he reappeared through a thorn-hedge, sturdy and unflappable, whistling a joyful,
jaunty, jiggish tune, the rescued Flitwit riding high across his shoulders.
~ Matthew 9:13; Luke 5:32; Luke 15:7,10 ~
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