Afflictions, Though They Seem Severe,
In Mercy Oft Are Sent ;
They Stopped The Prodigal’s Career,
And Caused Him To Repent.

I’ll Not Pine Here For Bread,
I’ll Not Pine Here For Bread, He Cries ;
Nor Starve In Foreign Lands
My Father’s House Has Large Supplies,
And Bounteous Are His Hands.

What Have I Gained By Sin, He Said,
But Hunger, Shame, And Fear ?
My Father’s House Abounds In Bread,
While I Am Starving Here !

I’ll Go And Tell Him All I’ve Done,
Fall Down Before His Face ;
Unworthy To Be Called His Son,
I’ll Seek A Servant’s Place.

His Father Saw Him Coming Back ;
He Saw, He Ran, He Smiled,
And Threw His Arms Around The Neck
Of His Rebellious Child !

O Father, I Have Sinned Forgive !
“Enough ! The Father Said
Rejoice, My House ; My Son’s Alive,
For Whom I Mourned As Dead !

‘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.