The Snow Was Drifting Oer The Hills


The snow was drifting o’er the hill,
The wind was fierce and loud,
While still the Shepherd forward pressed,
His head in sorrow bowed.
“O Shepherd, rest, nor farther go,
The tempest hath begun:”
“I cannot stay, I must away,
To seek my little one,
To seek my little one.”

“I saw Thy flock at peace within
Thine own well-guarded fold;
O Shepherd, pause, for wild the gale
That rages o’er the world;”
“No! one poor lamb hath gone astray,
And soon may be undone;
I cannot stay, I must away,
To seek my little one,
To seek my little one.”

“But since Thy flock are all secure,
Why to the height repair?
If Thou hast ninety-nine at home,
Why for a truant care?”
“Dearer to me than all the rest,
Is that poor struggling son!
I cannot stay, I must away,
To seek my little one,
To seek my little one.”

“Good Shepherd, tell me, if this need
Should bring the wand’rer home,
Wilt Thou not punish him with stripes
Lest he again should roam?”
“No! I would clasp him to my heart,
As mother clasps her son,
I cannot stay, I must away,
To seek my little one,
To seek my little one.”

E’en so, I thought, our gracious Lord
Hath in His heart divine,
A wealth of love for all His saints-
For all the ninety-nine!
But most He loves, and most He seeks,
The soul by sin undone;
And still He sighs, “I must away,
To seek my little one,
To seek my little one.”