There were ninety
and nine that safely lay
In the shelter of the foe,
But one was out on the hills far 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 maid, answer tis 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
that 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 away
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.
But all through the mountains
thunder riven
And up from the rocky steep
There rose a cry to the
gates of heaven
Rejoice, I have found my sheep
And the angels echoed
around the throne
Rejoice for the Lord brings
back his own
Rejoice for the Lord brings
back his own
You