1 Peter 2:25
The black sheep of the family,
Have wandered off again.
Roamed away from the pasture,
Entering into a pigpen.
The pigpen is the world,
Run by evening wolves that keep.
Their drivel fangs a ready,
For the morrow are the bones of sheep.
They’re ravening the prey,
To shed blood and get dishonest gain.
And to destroy the soul,
They will not refrain.
Baa, Baa, black sheep,
Bleat out a cry of lull.
For He has an ear that heareth,
He is Jesus, The Shepherd of the Soul.
The blackness of the coat is sin,
But Jesus will make it white.
Bleaching out that dark stain,
By entering into His Light.
He layeth us upon His shoulders,
Rejoicing that the sheep are no longer lost.
There is nothing here dishonest,
Found within the cost.
He shed His blood so freely,
So the wolves would have no game.
Let them pant along with starvation,
For we call upon His name.
We are brought back to His pasture,
Feeding on Truth, not the gull.
But if a sheep should wander,
There is Jesus, The Shepherd of the Soul.
a servant of the Lord