In the shelter of the fold,
But one was out on the hills away,
Far off from the gates of gold —
Away on the mountains wild and bare,
Away from the tender Shepherd's care.
2 Lord, Thou hast here Thy ninety and nine ;
Are they not enough for Thee ?
But the Shepherd made answer:
This of Mine
Has wandered away from Me;
And although the road be rough and steep,
I go to the desert to find My sheep.
3 But none of the ransomed ever knew
How deep were the waters crossed ;
Nor how dark was the night that the
Lord passed through [lost.
Ere He found His sheep that was
Out in the desert He heard its cry —
Sick and helpless, and ready to die.
4 Lord, whence are those blood-drops
all the way [track ?
That mark out the mountain's
They were shed for one who had gone astray
Ere the Shepherd could bring him back.
Lord, whence are Thy hands so rent and torn ?
They are pierced to-night by many a thorn.
5 But all through the mountains, thunder-riven,
And up from the rocky steep,
There arose a cry to the gate of heaven,
Rejoice ! I have found My sheep !
And the angels echoed around the throne,
Rejoice, for the Lord brings back His own !