POEM: THE PRODIGAL'S RETURN

I reach my hand to thee!

Stoop; take my hand in thine;

Lead me where I would be,

Father divine.

I do not even know

The way I want to go,

The way that leads to rest:

But, Thou who knowest me,

Lead where I cannot see,

Thou knowest best.

Toys, worthless, yet desired,

Drew me afar to roam.

Father, I am so tired;

I am come home.

The love I held so cheap

I see, so dear, so deep,

So almost understood.

Life is so cold and wild,

I am thy little child -

I WILL be good.