attempts to capture the joy in Heaven each time this happens.
Return of the Prodigal
A hush descended on Heaven
as one broken, alone,
in rags, dirty and tattered,
turned… to go home.
Jesus, such lost ones is seeking;
the Father, waiting and watching,
arms extended and wide
to welcome home His child.
No harsh word escapes,
only warmth of embrace,
compassion etching His face,
perfect acceptance of His lost waif…
nothing but love and pure grace.
“Bring him My best robe:
replace the rags of his own.
Put My ring on his finger
and shoes on his feet.
Prepare a great feast!
Rejoice and be merry!
Though lost, My son’s found;
though blind, he now sees.
My son is alive and precious to Me.”
All Heaven burst out with song
for the angels could not contain
their joy and delight to proclaim:
this sheep was now safe in the fold
in his Father’s arms where He belonged.
