The Father’s Care

’Neath threat­en­ing clouds a lit­tle bird

Flew home­ward to its rest;

And ’neath the leaves of shel­ter­ing oak

Slept safe in dow­ny nest.

Thro’ cease­less storm of sum­mer night

Was heard no wild des­pair

For great­er than the tem­pest’s wrath

The Fa­ther’s watch­ful care.

O the won­der­ful

won­der­ful love

That marks the spar­row’s fall;

That hears my faint­est call.

So white the snow on val­ley’s breast

So bare the old oak tree;

The wind plays with a brok­en nest—

O bird

who cares for thee?

A song of praise—a burst of joy—

Brought Je­sus’ words to me:

The Fa­ther marks thy fall

I cried

And His love feed­eth thee.

O heart op­pressed with life’s sad woe

Doubt not thy Fa­ther’s care.

No sor­row is to Him un­known

Its angu­ish He doth share.

The love that marks the spar­row’s fall

Shalt for thy need pre­pare

For great­er than thy life can tell

Thy Fa­ther’s watch­ful care.