Poem September 4, 1976 Issue

THE PRODIGAL THOUGHT

Doris M. Junker

Father, I said, give me my inheritance,
All the things I own,
To spend freely, live as I choose, go my way.
This I did.

(Unwise child! I thought He had let me go!)

When my substance was used up,
I found myself to be in want
Among those who were strangers,
And there was none to care.

(Unwanted child! I thought He had let me go!)

Then, when darkness closed in,
I hesitated to go home to my Father.
But there was nowhere else to turn.
I started the long way back.

(Unloved child! I thought He had let me go!)

While yet a long way off,
He saw me. I saw Him, too.
He came with arms outstretched,
I listened and heard Him say,

"Wise child! Washed through suffering, refusing
to be fooled by error anymore.

"Wanted child! Appreciated, welcome, forever
established in your Father's house."

He had never let me go!

Doris M. Junker

NEXT IN THIS ISSUE

Article

The Affluence of Sharing

September 4, 1976

We'd love to hear from you!

Easily submit your testimonies, articles, and poems online.

Submit