 | Lyra Pastoralis |  |
The Sparrow
A sparrow lighted chirping on a sprayClose to my window, as I knelt in prayer,
Bowed by a heavy load of anxious care.
The morn was bitter, but the bird was gay,
And seemed by cheery look and chirp to say—
What though the snow conceals my wonted fare,
Nor have I barn or storehouse anywhere,
Yet I trust Heaven e'en on a winter's day.
That little bird came like a wingèd text,
Fluttering from out God's Word to soothe my breast:
What though my life with wintry cares be vext,
On a kind Father's watchful love I rest;
He meets this moment's need, I leave the next,
And, always trusting, shall be always blest!
| Lyra Pastoralis | |