The Ballad of the Wandering Son

I.
There was a man of honor, with sons he loved so dear,
And to the younger’s longing cry he bent his gracious ear.
“Give me my share, O Father, my portion yet untrod,”
The father broke his heart in two and placed it in his rod.

II.
Away the younger journeyed where distant fields lay wide,
His purse was full, his hopes were high, his folly was his guide.
He drank the cup of laughter and clothed himself with pride,
Till famine rode the dusty winds, and all his joys had died.

III.
He fed the swine in hunger; his stomach ached with need,
For husks the creatures cast aside he longed his soul to feed.
Then through the mire of ruin a dawning thought broke through:
“My father’s hired servants feast—while here I perish too!”

IV.
“I’ll rise and go in sorrow, confess what I have done,
I’ve sinned against my Father, and heaven’s holy sun.
I am not worthy anymore to bear a son’s fair name—
Just let me be a servant, a shadow of my shame.”

V.
But while he yet was distant, with dust upon his face,
The father ran to meet him and robbed him of disgrace.
He kissed him in compassion, he clothed him in delight,
A ring, a robe, new sandals—love turned his wrong to right.

VI.
“Prepare the fatted cattle! Let music fill the air!
For he who once was buried has risen from despair.
My son was lost in wandering, in darkness far from home,
But now he breathes among us—no longer shall he roam!”

VII.
The elder heard the singing and felt a jealous fire,
“Why celebrate this squanderer, this slave to his desire?”
But gently spoke the father: “My son, all I have is thine;
Rejoice with me this evening—your brother lives divine.”

VIII.
So ends the tender story the Savior’s lips have spun—
A ballad for the broken, a hope for everyone.
For still the Father watches each road beneath the sky,
And runs to meet the weary when they return and cry