The Prodigal Son

by Fenton Johnson


Snow is on the earth,
Sunshine in the heaven,
Snow is on the earth
And my soul a-stumbling,
Night is calling soft,
“Bring me home the weary”,
God commands the host
“Kill the fatted heifer
        For my son is coming home.”


Peter holds the key,
David’s voice is golden,
Simeon is praying;
In my chariot
I am drawing nigher
To the Mercy Seat
Of the shining Father
In the Land of Golden Hours.


Rachel cooks the Lamb,
Mary weaves me raiment,
Moses writes my name,
Joshua is shouting,
All the host rejoice
For my late returning;
Jesus takes my hand,
Calling me his brother
From the Land of Golden pain.


Dark my home on earth,
Bright the Glory cabin
Dark my home on earth.
Bright the streets of Heaven,
Never whip nor lash,
Never bread and water,
Parted on the cruel block
Waits the sainted mother
For the coming of her son.


Speed thy lissome oar,
Oh, my valiant boatman,
Speed o’er Jordan’s stream,
To the Land of Shining Glory.

From Visions of the Dusk (1915).