The Prodigal. Luke 15. 11-24
W. Gadsby 148th
1
Now for a song of praise,
To our Redeemer God;
Whose glorious works and ways
Proclaim his love abroad;
Ye prodigals, lift up your voice,
And let us all in him rejoice.
2
A sinner, saved by grace,
And God calls him his son,
From Jesus turned his face,
And from his Father ran;
Spent all he had with harlots base,
And brought himself into disgrace.
3
And now, in his distress,
A servant he becomes;
Some legalising priest,
Has hired him, it seems;
Then sends him forth to feed his swine,
And husks he now must eat, or pine.
4
So off the rebel sets,
And to the herd he goes;
Then tries to eat his husks,
But now he feels his woes;
With hunger pinched, he cried and said,
“My Father’s house abounds with bread.
5
“Alas! what can I do?
I starving am for want;
I’ll to my Father go,
And tell him my complaint;
I’ll tell him, too, how base I am,
Not worthy to be called his son,”
6
He said, and off he goes
Towards his Father’s house,
With neither shoes nor hose,
Nor any other dress,
Except his base and filthy rags,
Of sin and guilt the very dregs.
7
But O good news of grace!
The Father saw him come,
And, with a smiling face,
He ran to fetch him home;
He ran, and fell upon his neck,
And kissed him, for his mercy’s sake.
8
“Father,” the rebel cries,
“I’ve sinned against thy love;”
The Father then replies,
“Bring hither the best robe;
Yes, bring it forth, and put it on,
For this my son’s alive again.
9
“Put shoes upon his feet,
And on his hand a ring;
Bring forth the fatted calf,
And let us eat and sing;”
And now the Father’s house abounds
With joy, and sweet harmonious sounds.
