Father, I have heard Thee calling
In sweet accents, “Come to me;”
Very far away I’ve wandered,
But I’m coming home to Thee.
Father, Father, I am coming,
Nevermore from Thee to roam,
While I hear Thy sweet voice calling,
Father, I am coming home.
In Thy loving kindness, Father,
All my trespasses forgive
Jesus, who hath died for sinners,
Teach, oh, teach me how to live.
Oh, my Father, all unworthy
Am I of Thy tenderest love,
By which Thou wouldst draw Thy children
To the heav’nly home above.
Eliza Sherman/W. Irving Hartshorn