When some kind shepherd from his fold
Has lost a straying sheep,
Thro’ vales, o’er hills, he anxious roves,
And climbs the mountains steep.
But O the joy! the transport sweet!
When he the wandrer finds;
Up in his arms he takes his charge,
And to his shoulder binds.
Yet how much greater is the joy
When but one sinner turns;
When the poor wretch with broken heart,
His sins and errors mourns!