I love my babies: daughter’s, sons. The more I call the more each runs.
They’ve found some whom they love much more and brought devotion to THEIR door.
I yearn for those forgotten days of holding, teaching, learning, praise;
the cords of kindness, bands of love, and nourishment from up above.
In setting themselves free to flee they head for abject slavery.
Though once they savored lust for life, they’re on the way to grief and strife.
They’ve turned to face another way and walked the path that leads astray.
When making an infrequent call they find there’s no support at all.
Though tempted to give up and spurn, the heart within me makes a turn.
My anger will not come to pass, the end will not be awesome wrath.
A sound much like a lion’s roar will bring them, trembling, back once more.
Like flying things from who knows where restored to their creator’s care.
Image: Andrea Tummons on Unsplash
Source: Hosea 11:1-11
Text: David Alexander, 2022, CC BY-SA NC 4.0
Tune: Merthyr Tydfil, Public Domain
Audio: www.smallchurchmusic.com Used by Permission