O’er squandered wealth and wasted years,
In sin and folly past,
A wretched, starving prodigal
Awoke to mourn at last.
He pressed his weary, throbbing brow,
And through his tears he said,
I spurned the home I might have shared
And now I starve for bread.
I will arise and go at once,
My Father’s love implore,
Confess my wrong, His pardon seek,
And feed on husks no more.
Forsaken, friendless, clothed in rags,
And poor as poor can be,
To lowest menial service brought,
A tyrant’s slave was he;
He turned disgusted from the swine
That he so long had fed;
I can not from my Father stay,
With firm resolve he said.
I thought the world was what I dreamed,
My heart obeyed its call;
But now I find its fleeting joys
Are wormwood after all.
Be warned, oh gay and thoughtless ones,
That to the whirlwind sow,
Let’s hasten back to Father now,
He’s coming; let us go.