tr., Emma Frances Bevan, 1899

Like a little wandering lamb

Lost upon the hills I am;

Like a shepherd Jesus stands,

Holding out His blessed Hands.

"Come," He says, "come back to Me;

Little lamb, I died for thee;

I will take thee to My home,

Little lamb, I pray thee come.

"Thou wouldst like to have thy way,

On the lonely hills to stray,

Where the hungry lion hides,

Where the fiery serpent glides.

"I would have thee lie at rest,

Little lamb, upon My breast;

Thou shalt be My sweet delight

All the day and all the night.

"Though thou hast a wayward will,

Little lamb, I love thee still;

Come to Me and be forgiven,

I will bear thee safe to Heaven."