Indexes for The Sacred Harp, 2025 Edition

Afflictions, though they seem severe,
Are oft in mercy sent:
They stopped the prodigal’s career
And caused him to repent.

[chorus]
Oh! I die with hunger here, he cries,
Oh! I die with hunger here, he cries,
And starve in a foreign land;
My father’s house hath large supplies,
And bounteous are his hands.

Although he no relenting felt
Till he had spent his store,
His stubborn heart began to melt
When famine pinched him sore.

What have I gained by sin, he said,
But hunger, shame, and fear?
My father’s house abounds with bread
While I am starving here.

I’ll go and tell him what I’ve done,
Fall down before his face;
Not worthy to be called his son,
I’ll ask a servant’s place.

He saw his son returning back,
He looked, he ran, he smiled,
And threw his arms around the neck
Of his rebellious child.