A Prodigal Son

Album cover art for "A Prodigal Son" by Christina Rossetti

Christina Rossetti - Non-Music, Poetry (Literature)

A Prodigal Son

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Lyrics

Does that lamp still burn in my Father's house,         Which he kindled the night I went away? I turned once beneath the cedar boughs,         And marked it gleam with a golden ray;         Did he think to light me home some day? Hungry here with the crunching swine,         Hungry harvest have I to reap; In a dream I count my Father's kine,         I hear the tinkling bells of his sheep,         I watch his lambs that browse and leap. There is plenty of bread at home,         His servants have bread enough and to spare; The purple wine-fat froths with foam,         Oil and spices make sweet the air,         While I perish hungry and bare. Rich and blessed those servants, rather         Than I who see not my Father's face! I will arise and go to my Father:--         "Fallen from sonship, beggared of grace,         Grant me, Father, a servant's place."

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Credits

Writers
  • Christina Rossetti