KATHARINE TYNAN HINKSON

All in the April morning, April airs were abroad, The sheep with their little lambs Pass’d me by on the road. The sheep with their little lambs Pass’d me by on the road; All in an 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. Rest 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.