Homeward Bound

One more because it is so fitting as Nathan comes home. Dedicated to all families who set their daughters and sons free to find their callings as missionaries. To the missionaries who leave their loved ones and after eighteen months or two years, and are now or soon will be Homeward Bound. To parents who let their children find their callings in life and leave. Nothing is harder then watching them go, but that is also why we raise them so they can find their path in mortality and to provide a refuge for them to come home to. To our Savior, who provides us with the freedom to find our path, which is His path, and leads us gently, with love and patience, so we can be Homeword Bound, back to our Heavenly Home.

Ammon sums it up best, and it remains one of my top three favorite scriptures, Alma 26:16:

Therefore, let us glory, yea, we will glory in the Lord; yea, we will rejoice, for our joy is full; yea, we will praise our God forever. Behold, who can glory too much in the Lord? Yea, who can say too much of his great power, and of his mercy, and of his long-suffering towards the children of men? Behold, I say unto you, I cannot say the smallest part which I feel.

Marta Keen; arr. Wilberg:
“Homeward Bound”
• Homeward Bound Lyrics by Marta Thompson

“In the quiet misty morning
When the moon has gone to bed,
When the sparrows stop their singing
And the sky is clear and red,
When the summer’s ceased its gleaming,
When the corn is past its prime,
When adventure’s lost its meaning,
I’ll be homeward bound in time.
Bind me not to the pasture;
Chain me not to the plow.
Set me free to find my calling
And I’ll return to you somehow.
If you find it’s me you’re missing,
If you’re hoping I’ll return,
To your thoughts I’ll soon be list’ning,
In the road I’ll stop and turn.
Then the wind will set me racing
As my journey nears its end,
And the path I’ll be retracing
When I’m homeward bound again.
Bind me not to pasture;
Chain me not to the plow.
Set me free to find my calling
And I’ll return to you somehow.
In the quiet misty morning
When the moon has gone to bed,
When the sparrows stop their singing,
I’ll be homeward bound again.