06 November 2013

What the Sparrow Chirps - An 1871 Poem

By Pearl Rivers.
I am only a little sparrow,
A bird of low degree;
My life is of little value,
But the dear Lord careth for me.
He gave me a coat of feathers;
It is very plain, I know,
With never a speck of crimson,
For it was not made for show.
But it keeps me warm in winter,
And it shields me from the rain;
Were it bordered with gold or purple,
Perhaps it would make me vain.
And now that the spring-time cometh,
I will build me a little nest,
With many a chirp of pleasure,
In the spot I love the best.
I have no barn or storehouse,
I neither sow nor reap;
God gives me a sparrow's portion,
But never a seed to keep.
If my meal is sometimes scanty,
Close picking makes it sweet;
I have always enough to feed me,
And "life is more than meat."
I know there are many sparrows;
All over the world we are found,
But our heavenly Father knoweth
When on of us falls to the ground.
Though small, we are never forgotten;
Though weak, we are never afraid;
For we know that the dear Lord keepeth
The life of the creatures He made.
I fly through the thickest forest,
I light on many a spray;
I have to chart or compass,
But I never lose my way.
And I fold my wings at twilight,
Wherever I happen to be;
For the Father is always watching,
And no harm will come to me.
December 12, 1871. Staunton Spectator 49(12): 1.