In the cold enclave of self-righteousness From the false confidence and shallowness of human will Out of the mire of self-searching and doubt Dawns a new light, brighter still It kindles softly from the depths of self-surrender A promise sweet, overshadowing worry and fear What starts as a meek, impossible hope Ripens into a joy powerful and near Home at last, after so long in the cold Home at last, safely back in God’s fold A son and heir, beloved, accepted— His own, Hand in hand with his Father, never again alone —Chris Jones See Luke 15:11–32 .
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