From the hun­dred sheep which the Shep­herd’s care
Had pro­tect­ed ma­ny a day,
There was one went forth, and its rest­less feet
In the de­sert wan­dered away.
Then the Shep­herd’s heart was grieved,
And He kind­ly said:
On the mount­ain it will lan­guish and pine.
I will go and search for the sheep I lost,
I will leave the nine­ty and nine.

There was joy, great joy in the Shep­herd’s fold,
When His long, long jour­ney was o’er,
And the poor lost sheep that had gone as­tray,
In His arms He ten­derly bore;
Then the She­pherd’s heart was glad,
And He said to all:
What a mo­ment of re­joic­ing is Mine!
For I love My sheep that I lost and found,
More than all the nine­ty and nine.

Oh, that Shep­herd kind is the Son of God,
Who has borne our sor­row and care;
It was He who said, There is joy in Heav’n
O’er the wan­d’rer’s pe­ni­tent pray­er;
To the soul He bring­eth back
To His fold of grace,
To His pre­cious fold of mer­cy di­vine,
How His heart goes out, for He loves that one
More than all the nine­ty and nine.