There were ninety and nine that safely lay <br />In the shelter of the fold; <br />But one was out on the hills away, <br />Far off from the gates of gold, <br />Away on the mountains wild and bare, <br />Away from the tender Shepherd's care. <br /> <br />'Lord, Thou hast here Thy ninety and nine- <br />Are they not enough for Thee?' <br />But the Shepherd made answer, 'This of Mine <br />Has wandered away from Me; <br />And although the road be rough and steep <br />I go to the desert to find My sheep.' <br /> <br />But none of the ransomed ever knew <br />How deep were the waters crossed; <br />Nor how dark was the night that the Lord passed through <br />Ere He found His sheep that was lost. <br />Out in the desert He heard its cry, <br />Sick and helpless and ready to die. <br /> <br />'Lord, whence are those blood drops all the way <br />That mark out the mountain's track?' <br />'They were shed for one who had gone astray, <br />Ere the Shepherd could bring him back.' <br />'Lord, whence are Thy hands so rent and torn?' <br />'They were pierced tonight by many a thorn.' <br /> <br />And all through the mountains, thunder-riven, <br />And up from the rocky steep, <br />There arose a cry to the gate of heaven, <br />'Rejoice, I have found My sheep!' <br />And the angels echoed around the throne, <br />'Rejoice, for the Lord brings back His own.'<br /><br />Elizabeth Cecilia Clephane<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/the-ninety-and-nine/
