Home
I am the
least in my Father’s House;
but I am, at
least,
in my
Father’s House.
So many of
my brothers and sisters
have locked
themselves out,
through
folly, ignorance, or selfishness,
In a moment,
deluded by passion,
they fled
His overcare,
and now
wander,
lost and
confused,
bewildered and
befuddled;
wondering
who they are,
where they
came from,
where they are
going.
Not
realising,
that the
Father himself
has prepared
a place for them.
My joy can
hardly be complete
without my
brothers and sisters.
Thus have I
pledged
to the
Father
that I would
seek out our
lost family
and help
them find their way home.
Thus have I become
an expert in maps,
covered all
kinds of terrain,
and learned
to speak in many tongues.
But it’s
hard,
It’s real
hard…
To see your
own,
Minds
muddled
By the
delusions of the world,
Wander lost,
dazed, and confused,
Unable to
recognise you,
Unable to
recognise the voice of their Father,
The voice of
undying hope,
Unable to
recognise their Father’s Castle,
The
Stronghold of His Kingdom,
not
realising that they are
a few short
steps from safety and security,
from warmth
and welcome,
from HOME.
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