IS THE BIRD LESS SAFE THAN THOU?
By Anon.
THERE’S a bird that swings from the branches tall,
With never a thought he may faint or fall.
I stood, last night, on a tottering stone
While I cried, in pain, “I am all alone!
And my way is perilous, fraught with fear;
Will there no one come? Is there no one near?”
How the lightnings flash and the thunder roars,
While the rain from a great black cloud outpours!
But the singer chirped from the swaying bough—
“Is the bird less safe in the storm than thou?
We feel as safe in the roaring blast
As at other times when the rain is past.”
And I cried, “Little bird, thou indeed art right.”
And my soul grew calm, and I banished fright;
For I felt that God, in his tender love,
Had sent this thought from his realm above;
And I wept in shame. Am I then to fail
When an hour is dark? Shall my moan and wail
Be heard above little birdling’s song,
Though the storm may come and the day be long?
And I knocked in haste at my Father’s door,
And he cried, “Come in, thou shalt fear no more.”
Then my soul grew strong. Though the tottering rock
And the angry blast at my courage mock,
I will sing thy praise, Father, God on high,
While I rest content, if but thou art nigh.