Afflictions, though they seem severe; In mercy oft are sent; They stopped the prodigal’s career, And forced him to repent. Although he no relentings felt Till he had spent his store; His stubborn heart began to melt When famine pinched him sore. “What have I gained by sin, he said, But hunger, shame, and fear; My father’s house abounds with bread, While I am starving here. I’ll go, and tell him all I’ve done, And fall before his face Unworthy to be called his son, I’ll seek a servant’s place.” His father saw him coming back, He saw, and ran, and smiled; And threw his arms around the neck Of his rebellious child. “Father, I’ve sinned—but O forgive!” I’ve heard enough, he said, Rejoice my house, my son’s alive, For whom I mourned as dead. Now let the fatted calf be slain, And spread the news around; My son was dead, but lives again, Was lost, but now is found. ’Tis thus the Lord His love reveals, To call poor sinners home; More than a father’s love He feels, And welcomes all that come. |