  Sing, little sparrow, sing thy song. No peril neareth thee; Tho night be dark or day be long, Or clouds hang low, sing on, sing on, The dear God heareth thee. Sing, little bird, whate'er befall— Trill out thine utmost need; Thou canst not soar, thou canst not fall But He will note who knoweth all, And He thy plaint will heed. O little sparrow, far and high Thy soft notes God-ward go, And I with thee send up my cry, And both shall somewhere find reply, God careth for us so. |
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