The Prodigal Son

Part I
The sinner departing from God:

1 See the rash youth, defiled with sin,
Hear how he claims with haughty voice,
To have his portion, and begin
In vice and madness to rejoice.

2 His father gave with bounteous hands,
Richly were all his wants supplied;
Thankless he took; in foreign lands
Wasted in pleasure, pomp and pride.

3 In lust and wine he spent the whole,
Forgot his Father and his home;
Nor thought nor felt he had a soul
Exposed to meet the wrath to come.

4 The giddy crowd that round him throng,
In every sinful folly join;
Approve the mirth and chant the song
That casts contempt on things divine.

5 Thus lured by charms of flattering vice,
The rebel sees his substance fled;
His friends forsake, his wants arise,
For sin has struck his comforts dead.

Part II
The sinner under conviction:

6 With dying want the sinner cries,
Nor thinks rebellion makes his pain;
To strangers, far from home, applies,
Nor seeks his Father's grace to gain.

7 See the poor wretch with hunger pressed
Sunk low with swine to have a share;
Alas! how far from peaceful rest,
Tortured by conscience, guilt and fear.

8 'Tis thus the God of sovereign grace
Begins to bring a rebel home;
The spirit shews his wretched case,
And points a judgment still to come.

9 Now self-condemned to works he flies
And thinks to cleanse a guilty mind,
Still far from penitence, which cries
To God for help, and feels resigned.

10 Blinded by sin, to duty lost,
He grasps the husks and hates the bread;
Hill all his expectations crossed,
His hopes from self and means are fled.

Part III
The Sinner brought to true repentance:

11 Now see the Rebel raise his eyes,
From dreaming folly just awake;
His soul relents with strange surprise,
And all his heart begins to break.

12 I starve, he cries, nor can I bear
This death I feel in sinful lands,
While servants of my Father share
The liberal bounty of his hands.

13 With deep repentance on my tongue,
I'll go and seek my Father's face,
Unworthy to be called a son,
I'll only ask a servant's place.

14 I'll tell him how I've grieved his love,
And basely fled his holy sight,
How I've provoked all heaven above,
Nor thought or done a thing that's right.

15 Far off his Father saw him come,
And o'er him all his bowels yearned;
He rose to bless and greet his son,
And crown with grace his safe return.

16 The Rebel's heart with sorrow filled,
Bled for the crimes, which he had done:
Through all the Courts the triumph smiled,
And sang the Father's grace alone.

The Hartford Selection of Hymns from the most approved authors, 1799