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                     Wouldn't it be wonderful
                      If all we had to do   
            Was turn up on a Sunday 
            And sing some songs to You 
            Our liturgy would clear the air
            And we'd be right as rain
            Going home to do the things
            That bring us back again.

            Surely there is more to this
            Than going through the motions
            We know that You want more from us
            Than robots with devotions
            You're a Father, so You know
            That children like to roam
            But we have wandered far away
            Please help us to come home.

            Prodigals are what we are
            We're scared and disconnected
            And by the world and all it's got
            We've surely been infected
            So turn us round and give us strength
            To run back to Your arms
            Where life is much more meaningful
            Away from satans' charms.