All in the April evening, April airs were abroad, The sheep with their little lambs Passed me by on the road. The sheep with their little lambs Passed me by on the road; All in the April evening I thought on the Lamb of God. The lambs were weary, and crying With a weak, human cry. I thought on the Lamb of God Going meekly to die. Up in the blue, blue mountains Dewy pastures are sweet, Rest for the little bodies, Rest for the little feet, But for the Lamb of God, Up on the hill-top green, Only a Cross of shame Two stark crosses between. All in the April evening, April airs were abroad, I saw the sheep with their lambs, And thought on the Lamb of God.
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Poems of Home: II. For Children