- Oh, how weary and sad is my aching heart today,
As I languish alone to die!
Let me go, let me go to my home far away,
For which my poor soul doth sigh.
I am coming, Father, coming,
And I know Thou wilt soothe the pain;
And my poor, throbbing heart with joy shall sing,
When the wandírerís home again.
- Oh, my garments are stained, and Iím longing to be fed,
For I starve in a foreign land,
While my own Fatherís house is abounding with bread,
And bounteous is His hand.
- Iíll arise and go home, and low bending at His feet,
He will pity the long-lost one;
Yes, Iíll go, I will go, to His arms I will flee,
Heíll welcome the wandíring son.
- When the Father did see His dear son was coming back,
Had compassion and ran and smiled,
And with tears of great joy as He fell on his neck,
He kissed His poor, weary child.
- Now the lost one is found, and heís dressed in robes of white,
And is safely at home again;
And the royíl palace hall, with its glittering light,
Resounds with a glad refrain.
- So the sinner who comes to the Fatherís loving arms
Shall be welcomed to his dear home;
He shall dwell there in peace, and be safe from alarms,
And rest, nevermore to roam.