1 Into the valley of grief and shame,
Into the twilight dim,
Over the mountain the Shepherd came
And gathered His own to Him.
What of the ninety and nine asleep
And safe while the wild winds moan?
Will they be kind to the little lost sheep
When the little lost sheep comes home?
When the little lost sheep comes home?

2 White is the fleece of the ninety and nine,
Murmur ye not in scorn,
“Little Lost Sheep, this coat of thine
Is blackened and soiled and torn.”
Tender the love in the Shepherd’s voice,
The quivering soul is blest;
“Heavenly angels, rejoice, rejoice!
For my little lost sheep can rest,
For my little lost sheep can rest.”

3 You were a little lost sheep astray,
Brother, and so was I,
Wounded and sick on the hills away,
And ready almost to die.
Only the Shepherd our souls can keep,
Our feet are so prone to roam;
Will you be kind to the little lost sheep
When the little lost sheet comes home?
When the little lost sheet comes home?