When Some Kind Shepherd From His Fold


When some kind shepherd from his fold,
Has lost a straying sheep,
Through vales, o’er hills, he anxious roves,
And climbs the mountain’s steep.

But O the joy! the transport sweet!
When lie the wanderer finds;
Up in his arms he takes his charge,
And to his shoulder binds.

Homeward he hastes to tell his joys,
And make his bliss complete:
The neighbours hear the news, and all
The joyful shepherd greet.

Yet how much greater is the joy
When but one sinner turns;
When the poor wretch with broken heart,
His sins and errors mourns!

Pleas’d with the news, the saints below,
In songs their tongues employ;
Beyond the skies the tidings go,
And heaven is fill’d with joy.

Well-pleas’d the Father sees and hears
The conscious sinner weep;
Jesus receives him in his arms,
And owns him for his sheep.

Nor angels can their joys contain,
But kindle with new fire:
“A wandering sheep’s return’d,” they sing,
And strike the sounding lyre.