XI.

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THE PRODIGAL SON.

"There's joy divine," the Saviour said,

"Among the bless'd in Heaven,

When one on earth of sin repents,

And feels his sin forgiven."

There was a man who had two sons;

The younger to him said,

"Give me the share that falls to me;"

And he division made.

And soon the younger son prepared

To leave his father's home,

And all the comforts he enjoy'd,

Out o'er the world to roam.

How many children leave their home

To wander far and wide,

To roam o'er hill and desert far,

Or on the foaming tide.

But still they feel, whate'er they do

Wherever they may roam,

Whatever pleasures they may have,

There is no place like home.

The younger son took all he had,

And soon the whole was spent;

A famine rising in the land,

He soon began to want.

He therefore went and hired himself

Unto a citizen;

And out into the field he went

To feed his master's swine.

And he was hungry; hunger came

So pressing that he fain

Would have partaken of the husks

With which he fed the swine.

And there he came unto himself,

And thought upon his home,

"I plenty had when I was there,

To what am I now come?

"My father's hired servants have

Great plenty and to spare,

While I am perishing for food,

And with the swine do share.

"I well remember father's house,

And brother too so kind;

Why did I leave them, here to die,

This poverty to find?

"I am determined what to do;

I will at once arise,

And to my father's house will go,

And there, with streaming eyes,

"Will say, 'O! father, I have sinn'd,

And wander'd from thee far,

Call me not son, but make me as

Thy hired servants are."

He rose and wander'd towards his home,

With grief and tearful eye,

But when he was a great way off,

His father did him spy,

And ran and fell upon his neck,

And kiss'd him o'er and o'er;

Rejoiced that he had found the son,

He thought he'd see no more.

"Go call the neighbours, send the word

Of joyful news around,

This son, once dead, now lives again,

Though lost, he now is found.

"Go call my servants, bid them here

The costliest raiment bring;

Bring shoes to put upon his feet,

And on his hand a ring.

"And let us kill the fatted calf,

And all rejoice around;

My son, though dead, now lives again,

Though lost, he now is found."

Healing the Blind.
Healing the Blind.

                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                           

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