The Lights of Home
Helen Dowd

Luke 15: 11-32

"Dear Daddy," said the daughter on her graduation day.
"I'd like to have my college fund. I want to go away.
I feel that I must find myself, be out there on my own.
I'm tired of always looking at the same old lights of home.

So Daddy gave her money. She said, "I'm finally free.
I've no one else to think of now. At last I can be me."
She'd told her folks, "Don't worry. Your little girl is grown.
I don't need your protection, or the smothering lights of home."

The girl and her companions--she now had many friends--
All partied on her money. Why, she had lots to spend!
Each day she slid more closely to the dangerous twilight zone,
Convinced that she could get along without the "lights of home."

Her bank account soon emptied. Her friends all slunk away.
And next she had to leave her suite, because she couldn't pay.
She huddled in the alleys then, where all the street-bums roam.
But still she wouldn't think about the glowing lights of home.

She searched for some employment: "Perhaps I'll 'walk the streets'.
At least I'd have a bed at night, and decent food to eat."
Her mind flicked to the story of a wasteful, wayward son.
He too had tired of seeing the same boring "lights of home."

He squandered his inheritance on wantonness and wine.
He sunk to lowest levels: he lived among some swine.
He then came to his senses. "I need not die alone."
He hurried back to father, and the welcoming lights of home.

The young girl's heart awakened. "Would I be welcomed back?"
She turned and headed homeward. Her steps she did not slack.
Her mind was on returning to that warm room of her own.
Her pace she quickened further when she saw the lights of home.

"Oh Father," said the daughter, when she came up to the door.
"Forgive me, please, for wandering. I deserve your love no more."
Her father hugged her tightly. "I have prayed that you would come.
You always will be welcome to enjoy the lights of home."

Helen Dowd.


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