Classic Poem

In the wilds of sin, a weary soul astray,
From the home of love had gone;
Like a poor, lost lamb, he wandered far away,
In his grief and woe alone.
But he heard a voice in tender mercy say,
“Sinner, come! why longer stray?”
And he comes, he comes, along the homeward way;
Coming home, no more to stray.
Coming home, all faint and hungry and athirst,
To the feast of love and peace;
Coming home, by all the woe of sin accurst,
To receive a quick release.
Coming home, to seek a blessed mercy seat,
With a load of guilt and shame,
And a contrite heart to lay at Jesus' feet,
In the faith of his dear name.

Yes, the prodigal's coming home, coming home, no more to roam,
He is weary of wand'ring far away from home;
He is seeking the Father's face; he is longing for his grace;
Yes, the prodigal's coming home, coming home. . . . . . coming home.