“His father saw him!” After weary years
Of passionate longing for the well-loved face;
Now to behold him, through joy’s sudden tears,
And feel the rapture of his son’s embrace.
“His father saw him!” All those years of sorrow
Lost in that moment of ecstatic bliss!
Peace for the past, and joy for all the morrow
Given in the gladness of the father’s kiss!
Is this a story but of earth’s poor love?
Has it no deeper meaning to impart?
Has it no sweeter answer from above?
Does it not manifest our Father’s heart?
Whose is the love so faithful in its burning?
Whose is the patience which delights to wait
For the slow footsteps which are home returning—
For the lost sinner, who is coming late?
Whose are the lips which utter no complaining—
Never reproaching the repentant one—
Gives an embrace which knows no half-refraining,
Shouts the acknowledgment of “This, My son!”
Whose is the heart that so divinely yearning,
(Father and God, it’s Thine and Thine alone!)
Sees the first step the sinner takes returning,
Runs to embrace, and bids him, “Welcome home!”
December