Like a hound lost on the wayside
I look for You, my Master and Lord.
Swiftly You ran ahead of me,
Quickly You turned the bend,
then I was lost.
Longing for your kind sweet voice,
for that scent sweeter than incense
I track You down,determined but afraid.
Night is falling and I am not home.
The familiar crackling of the hearth,
replaced by unknown sirens, by stranger sounds.
Night is falling, and I am afraid.
Like a hound lost on the wayside,
I whimper and sigh,
weary and wary.
But You were never gone.
You searched me and found me.
Picked me up and kissed me.
Oh, that Voice, that Scent, the signs of Home!
Even if the heaven-ward hearth delays,
I fear nothing and am satisfied.
No roof but the starlit sky,
No bed but the grassy field,
It matters not my Lord.
For in your arms, I am home.