OTHER SHEEP I HAVE, WHICH ARE NOT OF THIS FOLD

Look from the sphere of endless day,

Oh, God of mercy and of night!

In pity look on those who stray,

Benighted, in this land of light.

In peopled vale, in lonely glen,

In crowded mart by stream or sea,

How many of the sons of men

Hear not the message sent from thee.

Send forth thy heralds, Lord, to call

The thoughtless young, the hardened old,

A wandering flock, and bring them all

To the Good Shepherd’s peaceful fold.

Send them thy mighty word to speak

Till faith shall dawn and doubt depart,-

To awe the bold, to stay the weak,

And bind and heal the broken heart.

Then all these wastes, a dreary scene,

On which, with sorrowing eyes, we gaze,

Shall grow with living waters green,

And lift to heaven the voice of praise.