All known languages are proved limited
To describe the joy when it was found
The Shepherd left the ninety-nine
To go after the sheep, the wayward one
It was circling around the open field
Confused and dazed by its enormity
But with the sheep’s name on His lips
The Shepherd sprinted toward the sheep
With total abandon, it perched on His shoulders
And gladly they went home together
The Shepherd is as good as He claims to be
Clearing the way, He goes before the sheep
And if it cannot find the will to cross
With His voice and hands, He ushers it along
His pasture is bountiful, His water is clear
No more hunger, no more thirst, the sheep is free
With the rest of His flock, in His pen, it is safe
Protected from the enemy who couldn’t traipse
It bounces with joy, it the sheep
As the Shepherd looks on, His gaze is wrapped with peace
Many times, though, the sheep loses His track
Decidedly it wants to prove its might
But every time it never fails to prove, too
Its might alone could not put the sheep through
Alone in the field again, the sheep goes scared
Thunders begin to growl and down comes the raging rain
It finds shelter under a tree and then in a cave
But its coat drips wet all the same
In agony, the sheep longs for the pen again
Where warmth from the good Shepherd flows to no end
With a drop amount of strength remaining
The sheep decides to come back to Him
But even before it lifts a foot
There the Shepherd comes into full view
He carries the sheep and nestles it in His arms
As it finds rest that evaded the night
The Shepherd says He was waiting for the sheep
But He knew the sheep needed a lifting
So He left and said, “I will bring it home again”
“No matter how many times away it sends itself.”
Thursday, July 29, 2010
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