Text: | The Prodigal |
Author: | Hart |
1 Now for a wondrous song,
(Keep distance, ye profane;
Be silent, each unhallowed tongue,
Nor turn the truth to bane,)
2 The prodigal’s returned –
The rebel bold and base,
That all his Father’s counsel spurned,
And long abused his grace.
3 What treatment since he came?
Love, tenderly expressed.
What robe is brought to hide his shame?
The best, the very best.
4 Rich food the servants bring;
Sweet music charms his ears;
See what a beauteous, costly ring
The beggar’s finger wears!
5 [Ye elder sons, be still;
Give no bad passion vent;
My brethren, ’tis our Father’s will,
And you must be content.
6 All that he has is yours!
Rejoice, then, not repine;
That love which all your state secures,
That love has altered mine.]
7 Dear Lord! are these thy ways?
If rebels thus are freed,
And favoured with peculiar grace,
Grace must be free indeed!
Text Information | |
---|---|
First Line: | Now for a wondrous song |
Title: | The Prodigal |
Author: | Hart |
Meter: | S. M> |
Language: | English |
Publication Date: | 1844 |
Topic: | Salvation and Free Grace |