Prodigal Son

Afflictions, though they seem severe,
Are oft in mercy sent;
They stop the prodigal's career,
And force him to repent.

I won't die of hunger here, he cries!
I won't die of hunger here, he cries!
Nor starve in a foreign land;
My father's house has large supplies,
And bounteous are his hands

Although he no repenting felt,
Til he had spent his store;
His stubborn heart began to melt,
When famine pinched him sore.

What have I gained by sin, he said,
But hunger, shame, and fear;
My father's house abounds with bread,
But I am starving here.

I'll go, and tell him what I've done,
And fall before his face;
Not worthy to be called his son,
I'll ask to serve his place.

He saw his son returning back
He looked him and he smiled;
And threw his arms around the neck
Of his rebellious child.