Feed My Frozen Sheep

Last Sunday we had snow. Some folk had to turn back. The flakes were the largest I’ve seen, and they stuck to my duffle coat like Velcro. In the field across the lane, I saw the farmer had ensured his sheep had plenty to eat, even during winter’s final throes. Here, mused I, is a picture of our chapel. Sitting in the corner of a remote place, we give spiritual food to all who will come and eat. While some churches offer froth and bubble, we seek to feed the sheep until the Great Shepherd comes to separate them from the goats, of which there are a great many.  


Ho, every one that thirsteth, come ye to the waters, and he that hath no money; come ye, buy, and eat.

Isaiah 55:1