This is my Father's house, and I am home.
By such a winding path I've found my way.
Who can say just how I came to roam?
And how came back? And with what delay?
This is my Father's house, and I am home.
My heart, it seems, is celebrating Lent.
The Master nods. The Master draws me near.
His touch is better than all argument.
Truths, long forgotten, now are clear.
This is my Father's house, and I am home.