O tender Shepherd, climbing rugged mountains,
And crossing waters deep
How long wouldst Thou be willing to go homeless
To find a straying sheep?
“I count no time,” the Shepherd gently answered,
“As thou dost count and bind
The weeks in months, the months in years,
My counting Is just until I find.”
“And what would be the limit of My journey?
I’d cross the waters deep,
And climb the hillsides with unfailing patience
Until I find My sheep.”