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A Lost Child ©

Ian McCrae
Sydney, Australia
2003

Out on the moors I lost my way
It was a very misty day,
The line I walked was straight and true
With tears in my eyes, 'Dad where are you?'

I wondered on towards my home
'Dad' I called, 'I am coming home!'
I am only nine years old,
Night was coming and I am cold.

Then I remembered what Dad would do
'Just sit down and I will come to you.'
The night was long and very dark
At daybreak a dog began to bark.

I stood up; the mist had not cleared
A voice, 'Dad' I called, 'I am here!'
The voice began to fade away,
That's when I began to pray.

'Dear Lord! I have lost my way;
My Dad told me not to stray;
I know he was right, I must obey;
My Dad will find me if I stay.'

The tears were rolling down my face
Just then a light - the Lord of Grace,
'The light I saw was faraway'
I sat down determined to stay.

Then at last a voice, that called my name
My Dad's voice, or the very same,
'Dad' I called, 'I am over here!'
'Stay where you are, have no fear!'

I called again and again, 'Dad, I am over here!'
A shadow in the mist, it was my Dad, have no fear,
He took me in his arms, and said;
'It's time that you were in your bed:'

Dad and I are back together
My prayer, I hope, will last forever;
When and if you lose your way,
All you have to do is pray.


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