My Weary Wanderer

rock, heavy drums, guitar-driven, emo, emo rock, with male vocals, gospel, raw

(Chorus)
Come home, My weary wanderer, come,
a table waits for My poor one.
Though concrete be your pillow tonight,
your name is graven in palms of might.
I’m not ashamed to call you kin,
the same through loss, the same through sin.
You’re never lost, you’re never alone,
there’s room prepared in My Father’s home.

(Verse 2)
“Where were You, Lord?” your heart inquires,
when rent was due and hope expired.
I walked beside you, closer than breath,
I bore your grief, I tasted death.
No place to lay My head had I,
foxes had holes beneath the sky.
I borrowed manger, cross, and grave,
so you, My homeless child, I’d save.

(Verse 3)
Not one small sparrow falls apart
without the aching of My heart.
And you are worth far more than they—
shall I not clothe you day by day?
Lilies wear glory without toil,
I’ll warm your feet on heaven’s soil.
The world may scorn and cast you low,
but I have called you “Mine” to know.

(Chorus)
Come home, My weary wanderer, come,
a table waits for My poor one.
They gave you crumbs, I broke My bread,
to feed five thousand from one head.
Your cup is dry, yet mine was gall—
I drank it all to catch your fall.
Soon rivers flow where deserts lie,
and you will thirst no more on high.

(Verse 4)
I see the scars upon your skin,
the tracks of sorrow, tracks of sin.
My hands and feet and side still bear
the marks that shout, “I paid it there.”
No condemnation left to fear,
only “It’s finished” do you hear.
You are washed clean, you are made whole,
My blood has spoken for your soul.

(Verse 5)
Soon trumpets sound and skies will roll,
and every knee on earth shall fall.
The streets you slept on, cold and bare,
will gleam like gold in answered prayer.
No hunger, cold, or locked-out door,
no signs that say “You’re welcome no more.”
The least, the lost, the last shall be
first at the feast prepared by Me.

(Bridge)
When church doors closed and sermons passed,
I stood outside with you, outcast.
When preachers promised wealth and health
and left you broken, poor by stealth,
I was the Stranger cold and thin
you shared your last small coin or grin.
Whatever you endured, I bore—
I’ll settle every score.

(Final Chorus)
Lift up your eyes, My tired one,
beyond the streetlights, see the Son.
The skyline shut you out, but see—
a city waits with room for thee.
A robe, a ring, a Father’s kiss,
a place no one can take from this.
You’re almost home, My precious child,
the road was long, the night was wild,
but I have sung through every storm
and carried you till you are warm.

(Outro—softly now)
So sleep, My love, though sirens cry,
the angels guard beneath this sky.
The dark is light to eyes like Mine,
and I will hold you till the dawn divine.
Rest now, My homeless one, rest now—
you’re almost home.
You’re home right now.

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(Verse 1) I saw you born in pain and joy, I shaped your heart, My girl, My boy. Before a star began to shine, I called you cherished, named you Mine. I watched the bottle break your dreams, I heard the night swallow your screams. When doors were locked and hope grew dim, I stooped and wrote, “Redeemed” by him. (Chorus) Come home, My weary wanderer, come, a table waits for My poor one. Though concrete be your pillow tonight, your name is graven in palms of might. I’m not ashamed to call you kin, the same through loss, the same through sin. You’re never lost, you’re never alone, there’s room prepared in My Father’s home. (Verse 2) “Where were You, Lord?” your heart inquires, when rent was due and hope expired. I walked beside you, closer than breath, I bore your grief, I tasted death. No place to lay My head had I, foxes had holes beneath the sky. I borrowed manger, cross, and grave, so you, My homeless child, I’d save. (Verse 3) Not one small sparrow falls apart without the aching of My heart. And you are worth far more than they— shall I not clothe you day by day? Lilies wear glory without toil, I’ll warm your feet on heaven’s soil. The world may scorn and cast you low, but I have called you “Mine” to know. (Chorus) Come home, My weary wanderer, come, a table waits for My poor one. They gave you crumbs, I broke My bread, to feed five thousand from one head. Your cup is dry, yet mine was gall— I drank it all to catch your fall. Soon rivers flow where deserts lie, and you will thirst no more on high. (Verse 4) I see the scars upon your skin, the tracks of sorrow, tracks of sin. My hands and feet and side still bear the marks that shout, “I paid it there.” No condemnation left to fear, only “It’s finished” do you hear. You are washed clean, you are made whole, My blood has spoken for your soul. (Verse 5) Soon trumpets sound and skies will roll, and every knee on earth shall fall. The streets you slept on, cold and bare, will gleam like gold in answered prayer. No hunger, cold, or locked-out door, no signs that say “You’re welcome no more.” The least, the lost, the last shall be first at the feast prepared by Me. (Bridge) When church doors closed and sermons passed, I stood outside with you, outcast. When preachers promised wealth and health and left you broken, poor by stealth, I was the Stranger cold and thin you shared your last small coin or grin. Whatever you endured, I bore— I’ll settle every score. (Final Chorus) Lift up your eyes, My tired one, beyond the streetlights, see the Son. The skyline shut you out, but see— a city waits with room for thee. A robe, a ring, a Father’s kiss, a place no one can take from this. You’re almost home, My precious child, the road was long, the night was wild, but I have sung through every storm and carried you till you are warm. (Outro—softly now) So sleep, My love, though sirens cry, the angels guard beneath this sky. The dark is light to eyes like Mine, and I will hold you till the dawn divine. Rest now, My homeless one, rest now— you’re almost home. You’re home right now.

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