Poem April 29, 1985 ISSUE

The prodigal

HILLARY HAUSER

You were always there, no matter how often I strayed.
You took me by the hand, gently, never stern—
Forgiving, always.
Father, I had left your house—
There was the fun, the applause,
And I followed those.

Yet You
Waited patiently.

Knowing I would return, You smiled, and in Your song You said:
In My kingdom there are many mansions—
Waiting for you.

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April 29, 1985
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