Edith Nesbit

The Prodigal’s Return

   I REACH my hand to thee!
      Stoop; take my hand in thine;
   Lead me where I would be,
      Father divine.
   I do not even know
   The way I want to go,
      The way that leads to rest:
   But, Thou who knowest me,
   Lead where I cannot see,
      Thou knowest best.

   Toys, worthless, yet desired,
      Drew me afar to roam.
   Father, I am so tired;
      I am come home.
   The love I held so cheap
   I see, so dear, so deep,
      So almost understood.
   Life is so cold and wild,
   I am thy little child—
      I _will_ be good.