The Father Beckons
"Even the sparrow finds a home, and
the swallow a nest for herself, where
may lay her young, at thy altars, O
of hosts, my King and my God."
"What man of you, having a hundred
if he has lost one of them, does not
the ninety-nine in the wilderness,
after the one which is lost, until
it? And when he has found it, he lays
on his shoulders, rejoicing."
My heart's a wayward vagabond,
Which wanders 'neath the city lights.
The cold drizzle, from dusk to dawn,
Dampens my spirit through the nights.
I strive to not succumb to sleep,
My spirit's eye weighs heavily.
The night is cold; the dark is deep:
My faith hangs on tenuously.
From here, I raise my eyes on high,
And shake the rain from my soaked head.
The Father hears His child's cry:
So far from home; so near to dead.
He beckons me to come back home;
To lead the life I'm called to live.
A vagrant's heart will drift and roam;
His child's heart will yield and give.
In Father's house, ALL have a home:
The wayward and the righteous share,
A common table where we come,
To join our hearts in love and prayer.
To You, Father, we wayward call:
"Beckon us home before we fall!"
(c) Paul Buis, 2000
1. Psalm 84:3
2. Luke 15:4-5