Proverbs 27

• [Pro 27:8] Return, O Wanderer, To Thy Home

  Return, O wanderer, to thy home, Thy Father calls for thee; No longer now an exile roam, In guilt and misery: Return, return! Too long the loathsome fields of sin Thy fruitless toil have known: No wholesome bread! no voice of kin! No home to call thine own! Return, return! Thy Father stands with outstretched hands, He gave His Son for thee: Poor soul, from sin’s enthralling bands He longs to see thee free. Return, return! Arise, stand up and homeward turn, No longer dwell apart; His mighty love will never spurn One humble contrite heart. Return, return! Our Father’s house is full of bliss, And there is room for all; He welcomes with forgiving kiss: O, hear His loving call! Return, return! The feast of joys awaits thee there, The precious robe and ring; O haste Thy Father’s gifts to share, O haste His praise to sing: Return, return!

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  source: Cyberhymnal