A silly sheep had strayed,
O’er many a barren wild,
Her fleece was soiled and torn,
And she was all defiled.
The night was dark and lone,
The wolves were prowling round,
Hungry and faint and sick,
She sinks upon the ground.
“Ah, vain, presumptuous sheep,
To leave my shepherd’s side,
And wander off alone
To roam in pastures wide.
“Now I am lost, undone,
I lay me down to die,
For there’s no arm to save,
Alas, no pitying eye.
But lo, she hears a Voice,
“I know My sheep,” It cried,
And looking up she sees
The Shepherd by her side.
With words of wondrous love,
In pitying, tender tone,
He soothes the trembling sheep,
And bids her fears begone.
He speaks no word of wrath,
But in His hands she spied
Some trace of what it cost
To bring Him to her side.
In feet, and side, and brow,
The nails, the spear, the thorn,
Leave marks of what His love,
For His poor sheep has borne.
Then on His shoulders strong
He bears the lost one home,
And now she knows His love,
She’ll seek no more to roam.
Her fleece no more defiled,
For from His wounded side,
To wash away her stains,
There poured a crimson tide.
No more in pastures wide,
Her foolish feet will stray,
She follows her dear Guide,
In the straight and narrow way.
And now, dear little child,
Christ is that Shepherd good,
Who died to save His sheep,
And wash them in His blood.
‘Tis you He seeks to save,
So far, far off from God,
He fain would have you nigh,
Washed in His precious blood.
Come to Him now, dear child,
His arms are open wide,
And cleave forevermore
To that dear Shepherd’s side.
ML 03/31/1918