Behold the lilies of the field!
They neither card nor spin,
but finer cloth their resting yields
than any toil could win.
But other flowers their stillness wield
for beauties poor and thin;
their trust in God their only shield
against the weight of sin.

The eagle braves the breeze's crest
and through the world is known,
by all for its pure glory blessed
and longed for when it's flown.
The little sparrow finds its rest
beside the altar stone,
but any beauty in its nest
is seen by God alone.

There have been eagle saints and doves,
but sparrows most of all,
and though the lilies tower above,
most of us blossom small.
But small or great the worlds we move,
we each must heed God's call,
and disproportionate, God's love
on hawks and sparrows falls.