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.