THOU humblest bird that wings the air, the Master cares for thee;
And if he cares for one so small, will he not care for me?
His eye looks on thee from above, he notices thy fall;
And if he cares for such as thee, does he not care for all?
He feeds thee in the sweet spring-time, when skies are bright and blue;
He feeds thee in the autumn-time, and in the winter too.
He leads thee through the pathless air, he guides thee in thy flight;
He sees thee in the brightest day, and in the darkest night.
Oh, if his loving care attends a bird so mean and small,
Will he not listen to my voice when unto him I call?