Among the hills of Cumberland,
Where lovely lakes abound,
There stands a humble cottage home,
With pastures green around,
Where sheep in summer sunshine feed,
And lambs in gambol play—
Without a fear, without a care,
The livelong summer day.
Within that lowly shepherd’s cot,
A fair young form is laid—
With golden curls and ringlets fair—
Upon a narrow bed,
No more to roam the flowery glades,
Or watch the lambs at play,
But lie through weary nights of pain,
And oft alone by day.
But Jenny’s bright and beaming face
No indication shows
That she is either sad at heart,
Or broods upon her woes,
But that she has a source of joy,
To thousands still unknown,
And that her heart its treasure finds
In Christ, upon the Throne.
When in the early days of health,
She watched her father’s sheep,
And learned the tender lambs to guard,
The wayward sheep to keep;
She heard the Gospel’s joyful sound,
And lent her youthful ear,
The voice of Christ the Shepherd true
Believingly to hear.
To Him who shed His precious blood
The lost one to reclaim,
Who came to seek the wandering sheep,
And bring it back again;
To Him she came and found her rest,
From Him salvation came,
And in Him life, eternal life, through
Believing in His Name.
O happy little shepherdess!
Who would. not be like thee?
Rejoicing in a Saviour’s love,
His face so soon to see;
Now in His bosom carried safe
To yonder peaceful home,
Where all who know Him in. their hearts
Shall surely safely come.
ML 10/29/1944