For Joel (Welcome Home)

From the far country,

sick and defiled,

riches all squandered,

unworthy child!

No longer haughty,

penitent bow.

What does your Father

think of you now?

“Lord I’ve done evil”

to Him you say.

“Make me your servant,

Father I pray.”

“No! Bring the best robe,

sandals and ring.

Serve him a banquet

fit for a king.”

Heaven rejoices,

Trinity smiles.

Brother, we all came as many miles.

 

By D.E. Young

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