A little lamb strayed far away,
It left the happy flock,
It wandered all the dreary day
O’er mountain, waste and rock—
Till, weary, ‘mongst the thorns it fell,
And there it feebly cried.
Poor hapless lamb! I know full well
That left there it had died.
But lo! a stranger o’er the braes
Is wandering all alone;
He stops, he listens; “Hark,” he says,
“I hear a plaintive moan;
“What is this sound? Can child be here,
Lost on this mountain side?
Affliction, O! I sorely fear,
Doth some lost one betide.”
He hastens o’er the wilderness,
Sure guided by the cry,
Till bound with thorns, in sore distress,
The wanderer meets his eye.
He gently bears it on his arm,
And softly down it lays,
Then seeks to soothe the lamb’s alarm;
But vain his voice and ways;
For, knowing not the stranger kind,
The lamb is filled with dread;
And though against his will inclined,
‘Twas thus the stranger said:
“So leave thee, helpless thing, I must,
Since all my care is vain,
The Shepherd soon will come, I trust,
To soothe thy fear and pain.
“The stranger’s voice thou knowest not,
Ah! from me thou wouldst flee;
Poor lamb! This rough and lonely spot,
A lesson teaches me.”
Then as the stranger turned again
And climbed the rugged brake,
With thankful heart and joyful strain
‘Twas thus aloud he spake:
“In yonder lamb myself I see,
A wandering one was I,
And in my guilt and misery
I feared that I must die.
“Nor die as sheep, and be no more,
Such end, thought I, were sweet;
The death I feared so dread and sore
With every woe’s replete.
“The pow’rful briers, shame and sin,
Both tore and held me fast,
Alas, wept I, my woes begin
Eternally to last.
“Then hasting down my mountain side
To where I bleeding lay,
A loving Shepherd I espied,
Who thus did gently say—
“‘Poor helpless soul, I come to save,
The weak, the lost are Mine,
Wilt thou a Mighty Shepherd have,
And I be ever thine?’
“He raised me with His arm so strong,
My wounds He quickly healed.
‘Thy Shepherd I, to Me belong,
My own thou now art sealed!
“‘I am thy Shepherd!—lo! My hands,
Once nailed upon the tree;
I am thy Shepherd! —see the bands
That bind thy heart to Me.
“The bands are love; His love, not mine;
Healing and strength, the same.”
Know’st thou this Shepherd? Is He thine?
For Jesus is His name.
“No stranger’s voice, nor stranger’s love,
Was Thine, O! Lord for me,
And now Thou bearest me above,
And with Thee I shall be.”
ML 08/25/1918