racious Master, "why turnest thou thus away,
When I came through the darkness seeking my sheep that have gone
astray?
I know thou art heavy laden, I know thou hast need of me
And the feet of thy loving Master are weary with seeking thee."

Callest Thou thus, O Master, callest Thou thus to me?
When my untrimmed lamp is dying and my heart is not meet for Thee;
For Thou art so great and holy, and mine is so poor a home,
And I am not worthy, not worthy, O Master, that Thou shouldst come.

"Child," said the tender Shepherd--and His voice was very sweet--
"I only ask for a welcome, and rest for my weary feet."
Then over my lonely threshold, though weak and defiled by sin,
Though I am not worthy, O Master, I pray Thee enter in.

--_Helen Marion Burnsides_

=_Christ the Restorer_=

Do I not speak to a soul who once has known Christ as the Good Shepherd,
but has now wandered away from the fold?

Perverse and foolish oft I strayed,
But yet in love He sought me,
And on His shoulders gently laid,
He home rejoicing brought me.

--_Sir Henry W. Baker_

May I not remind you of the Master's own parable, "What man of you,
having one hundred sheep, if he lose one of them, doth not leave ninety
and nine in the wilderness, and go after that which has gone astray,
until he find it?" May I impress upon the words _until he find it_? He
will not cease the search until He has found the sheep. It has been said
that the first verse of this Psalm may be translated, "The +LORD+ is my
Shepherd, I shall not be _missing_." "O love that will not let me go."

The Shepherd stands at the door of the sheepfold and counts the sheep,
his one hundred sheep. He counts to ninety-nine. One is missing. He
cannot rest until that last one is found. The door of the sheepfold is
closed, and out into the darkness and cold and pain of the night the
shepherd goes until he finds his lost sheep, and on his shoulders he
carries it back to the fold, then calls upon his neighbors to rejoice
with him. He has found his lost sheep.

There were ninety and nine that safely lay
In the shelter of the fold,
But one was out on the hills away,
Far off from the gates of gold--
Away on the mountains wild and bare,
Away from the tender Shepherd's care.

Lord, Thou hast here Thy ninety and nine;
Are they not enou