Like children bent on foolish wandering,
Or vanity of fruitless wayfaring--
O call them home.
See them, they drift like the wind-scattered foam;
Like wild sea-birds, the hither, thither fly,
And some sink low, and others soar too high--
O call them home.
Wherever, Lord, beneath the wide blue dome
They wander, in Thy patience find them there:
That undistracted I may go to prayer--
O call them home.
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