A little bird from her nest flew,
While grass was wet with morning dew,
Her cloak about her shoulders drew,
Good-by to home, good-by to you.

May God of heavens guide you still
By mountain high or valley rill
Your days and nights with blessings fill
As in His school you learn His will.

And when the weary journey’s past,
You've reached the haven rest at last
The storm, the hill, the toiling past
You hold the prize, the trophy fast.

You’ll know the reason of your trial
The lesson of each weary mile
You learn beneath God’s knowing smile
Though hidden from you for a while.

Walk on, trust on, and you will know,
Twas for your good His way to go;
For we should trust him here below,
For your own good, He planned it so.

 
 

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