There were ninety and nine that safely
Lay
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.
"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."
But none of the ransomed ever knew
How deep were the waters crossed;
Nor how dark was the night the Lord
Passed through
Ere He found His sheep that was lost.
Out in the desert He heard its cry;
'Twas sick and helpless and ready to
Die.
"Lord, whence are those blood-drops
All the way,
That mark out the mountain's track?"
"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're pierced tonight by many a
Thorn."
And all through the mountains,
Thunder-riv'n,
And up from the rocky steep,
There arose a glad cry to the gate of
Heav'n,
"Rejoice! I have found My sheep!"
And the angels echoed around the
Throne,
"Rejoice, for the Lord brings back His
Own!"