On the battlefield lay the wounded soldier. Around him were the dead, and he, weak with the loss of blood, felt his end was near.
“I am dying-dying! And I am not ready,” he cried.
He realized he was not fit to meet God. What could he do? Who could help him?
Then before his mind came the days of his childhood and the gospel preaching he used to go to with his mother. He remembered the Bible story about the good Shepherd seeking the one lost sheep among the wild and barren mountains.
And here the scene changed and he was in his childhood home, reciting the poem he learned as a little boy:
Jesus, tender Shepherd, hear me!
Bless Thy little lamb tonight;
In the darkness be Thou near me,
Keep me safe till morning light.
Lying on that lonely field, he began to repeat the words again. He also thought of the past years of forgetfulness of God and how sinful his life had been.
The cry burst from his lips: “I am not His little lamb! I’m a great big black sheep-a vile black sheep!”
In his repentance he was helpless. Who could help him in his great need?
Turning to the Savior, he prayed, “Oh, Shepherd, come-come and find and save this great big black sheep!”
God, who always hears a repentant cry, gave him peace. Slipping into unconsciousness, he awoke to find himself safe in a hospital. In a few weeks he was sent home to his mother. How they rejoiced together as he told her how he, the lost sheep, had been “found” by the Savior!