November 2007 - Volume 12, Issue 4

Coming Home

By Yolanda Cohen

A black and white photo of an old churchI'm walking the streets of this city
I hear the church bells chime
I know it's Sunday morning
And it's church going time

I remember how it was back then
When I was very small
On Sunday we would go to Church
The whole family, one and all

I looked forward to that day
It was the right thing to do
To go to church and sing and pray
And ask for forgiveness too

I wonder if it's the same today
As it was way back then?
I don't know how I fell so far
How it started; where or when

A photo of a misty yellow orange dawnI know I smell of alcohol
Drugs have messed up my mind
I'm tired, sick and hungry
and I don't have a dime

I don't know where I have been
But I do know that I'm alone
Today I am going to make a change
'Cause I am heading home

I remember the Prodigal Son
How he went home again
I'm trusting I'll be welcomed back
And forgiven for my sin

'Father it's been a while I know,
I hope you remember me,
I'm sorry for all the sins I've done,
I want to come home to Thee'

A photo of a heaven like photo with a blue sky and a large puffy cloud'I've missed the tenderness of Your love
While I strayed away on my own
I trust I'll find Your grace again
That makes it easy to come back home'
Signed, the Backslider