Poem November 27, 1976 Issue

THE JOURNEY

Madge Elder

We read the story of the prodigal—
Perhaps the best-loved parable of all—
We know the happy ending, and rejoice.
But of the road he came and what befell,
We do not know—the story does not tell.

It may be he was a long while on the way
And grew discouraged, counting his slow steps;
Or took a wrong turn, only to retrace
More painfully the path that he had come;
Or even—tempted to turn back,
Fearing the unknown more than the once known,
Feeling himself unworthy to be called son—
Doubted his father's love and pardon at the end.

It would not have been a smooth and easy path,
Still he pressed on.

But when he was as yet a long way off,
His father saw him.

The father saw the son
Before the son saw the father,
Before he saw himself
As he really was,
As he had always been,
The beloved son.

And we ourselves who, like that erring son,
Have set out steps to reach our heavenly home
And feel as yet a great way off,
Take heart—that story is our own.

Madge Elder

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November 27, 1976
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