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The Prodigal.  Luke 15. 11-32

J. Hart                          S.M.

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!