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.
