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.
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,
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,
Sick and helpless and ready to die;
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 are pierced
tonight by many a thorn;
They are pierced tonight by many a
thorn.¡¨
