Wouldn’t it be wonderful
If all we had to do
Was turn up on a Sunday
And sing some songs to You
Our liturgy would clear the air
And we’d be right as rain
Going home to do the things
That bring us back again.
Surely there is more to this
Than going through the motions
We know that You want more from us
Than robots with devotions
You’re a Father, so You know
That children like to roam
But we have wandered far away
Please help us to come home.
Prodigals are what we are
We’re scared and disconnected
And by the world and all it’s got
We’ve surely been infected
So turn us round and give us strength
To run back to Your arms
Where life is much more meaningful
Away from satans’ charms.