O, Weary Wanderer, Come Home

O

wea­ry wan­der­er

Thy Sav­ior bids thee come;

Thou long in sin hast loved to roam

But still He loves thee—come.

Think of thy Fa­ther’s house to­day

Think of its plen­te­ous store;

Think of thy sin­ful

wan­der­ing way

Then come

and roam no more.

Poor pro­di­gal

come home and rest

Come and be re­con­ciled;

Thy Fa­ther’ll clasp thee to His breast—

He loves His wan­der­ing child.