475 Portugal
Return, my wand'ring soul, return, And seek an injured Father's face; Those warm desires that in thee burn, Where kindled by redeeming grace. Return, my wand'ring soul, return, And seek a Father's melting heart; His pitying eyes thy grief discern, His heav'nly balm shall heal thy smart. Return, my wand'ring soul, return, Thy dying Saviour bids thee live; Go, view His bleeding side, and learn How freely Jesus can forgive. Return, my wand'ring soul, return, And wipe away the falling tear; 'Tis God who says, “No longer mourn;” 'Tis mercy's voice invites thee near. |