On the battlefield lay the wounded soldier. Around him were dead comrades who had fallen in the struggle, and he, weak with the loss of blood, feared his end was near.
"I am dying—dying, and I am not ready," he cried.
He realized he was not fit to meet God. What could he do? To whom could he turn?
Then before his mind came the days of his childhood and the gospel preachings he used to go to with his mother. He remembered the Bible story about the good shepherd seeking the one lost sheep among the wild and barren mountains.
And then the scene changed and he was in his childhood home, reciting the poem he learned as a little boy:
"Jesus, tender Shepherd, hear me!
Bless Thy little lamb tonight;
In the darkness be Thou near me,
Keep me safe till morning light."
Lying on that lonely field, he began to repeat the words again. He also thought of the past years of forgetfulness of God, and how sinful his life had been.
The cry burst from his lips: "I am not His little lamb! I am a great big black sheep—a vile black sheep!"
He was both repentant and helpless. Who could help him in his great need?
Turning to the Savior he prayed, "Oh, Shepherd, come—find, save this great big black sheep!"
God who always hears such cries gave him peace. Soon he sank into unconsciousness. Found alive, he was taken to a hospital, and in a few weeks sent home to his mother. How they rejoiced together as he told her how he, the lost sheep had been found by the Savior, the Savior she had loved so long.