Lord, when we look back on our lives, With penitent sighs and tears, Our evil that with Thee strives and strives In Thy parable's truth appears.
As the wayside hard were our hearts, Where Thy good seed lightly lay, For the Devil's flock, as it downward darts, To bruise and to bear away.
Thy winged words falling nigher Sprang up in our souls with haste, But they could not endure temptation's fire And withered and went to waste.
Within us Thy word once more Thou sowest, but--sore beset With worldly weeds--for Thy threshing floor Shall it ever ripen yet?
Yea, Lord, it shall if Thou please, In passionate, patient prayer, To draw the nation upon its knees And fill it with Heavenly care.
And so shall we all arise In the joy of a soul's re-birth To hold a communion with the skies That shall bring down Heaven to earth.
Tedious grew the time to me Within the Courts of Blessing; My secure felicity, For folly I forswore; Vain delusion wrought my woe Till now, in want distressing, I go begging to and fro Upon an alien shore.
In my dear old home of peace, Around my father's table Many a servant sits at ease And eats and drinks his fill; While within a filthy stall With loathsome swine I stable, Sin-defiled and scorned of all To starve on husk and swill.
Ah, how well I mind me Of the happy days gone over! Love was then behind me, Before me, and around; Then, light as air, I leapt, A laughing little rover, Now dull and heavy-stepped I pace this desert ground.
Sin with flattering offers came; Against my Sire rebelling I yielded my good name At the Tempter's easy smile; In fields that were not ours, Brighter blooming, richer smelling, I ravished virgin flowers With a heart full of guile.
'Twas thus an open shame In the sight of all the Noble, Yea! a monster I became, Till my gold ceased to flow, And my fine fair-weather friends Turned their backs upon my trouble. Now an outcast to Earth's ends Under misery I go.
Yet though bitter my disgrace, Than every ill severer Is the thought of the face Of the Sire for whom I long. I shall see Him no more Though to me he now is dearer Than he ever was, before I wrought him such wrong.
And yet ere I die I will journey forth to meet him. Home I will hie, For he yet may be won. For Pardon and Peace My soul will entreat him, "Father, have grace On thy Prodigal Son!"