Here feast I at my Fa­ther’s board
Who starved among the swine;
For me must ev­ery foot be fleet
And ev­ery lamp must shine;
For me the mer­ry mu­sic sounds,
The danc­ers dip and twine.

My heart beats fast against my robe,
The best robe, soft and red;
With sob­bing breath and tight­en­ing throat
And tears in rap­ture shed,
I feel His ring up­on my hand,
His bless­ings on my head.

Ah, bit­ter was the way, and oft
My blood my path would trace;
And guilt and grief and stab­bing shame
With all my steps kept pace;
And yet I fam­ished not for bread
So sore as for His face.

The road seemed end­less. On I fared,
Wresting each mile from death;
Then such an awe upon me fell
I scarce could draw my breath;
My spir­it felt His com­ing as
Of one that suc­cor­eth.

Blind, faint­ing, to His mig­hty breast
He caught and held me fast;
I knew the fort­ress of His arms
About my weak­ness cast;
And, when He kissed my trai­tor cheek,
I guessed His heart at last.

The pi­te­ous words I oft had conned
I trem­bling strove to say;
But sud­den glo­ry round me poured
A bright­er, rich­er day.
In won­de­rment I lift­ed up
My head that droop­ing lay.

The glo­ry streamed from out His eyes,
As from all Beau­ty’s throne.
O depths of love un­think­able
That in that splen­dor shone!
O pain of love that tra­vail­eth
And bleedeth for its own.

O gleam of wisdom hoar with eld
Ere sang the stars of morn!
O shift­ing, blend­ing, dazz­ling lights
That thrilled my hope for­lorn
To un­dreamed mir­acles of joy
And surge of life re­born!

He brought me home, and here I sit,
Even in my boy­hood’s place;
And on my ve­ry soul is stamped
Each larg­ess of His grace;
But still trans­fig­ur­ing all I see
That ra­di­ance of His face!