My father! here am I!
Receive thine erring child,
And leave me not to die
Upon the wintry wild.

I know my sin and shame,
But know that thou art good;
And long have called thy name,
While tears have been my food.

Look at my tattered dress;
Look at my haggard face;
They tell my wretchedness,
My want, and my disgrace.

Hunger and cold have stings,
And I have felt them all;
But bitterer suffering wrings
My penitential call.

Oh, grant me one desire
Before I join the dead!
I 'm cold and need the fire;
My hunger cries for bread; —

But I 've a want above
Such wants. — Give me my part
Of my own father's love, —
My old place near his heart!

Love me, or else I die!
This boon, O father, give
My broken heart, that I,
Thine erring child, may live.