Out in the desert afar, dost thou roam —
Out on the waste bleak and wild;
Why dost thou wander so far from thy home?
Wolves will o'ertake thee dear child.
Jesus stands pleading,
With wounds afresh bleeding;
O, come to his arms, meek and mild!

Out on the mountain so bare and so cold,
Hunger will blast thy fair cheek;
Jesus, the shepherd, has left the dear fold,
Now for THEE lost one to seek.
Eventide falleth,
His tender voice calleth —
Hear the sweet tones low and meek!

Wander no longer across the wild moor;
Back to the fold quickly flee!
Jesus has kindly left open the door —
Open, O, wanderer for thee!
The light is still burning,
He waits thy returning —
O, prodigal wander no more!