It shall not cause me any alarm, For neither so comes the bird to harm, Seeing our Father, thou hast said, Is by the sparrow's dying bed; Therefore it is a blessed place, And a sharer in high grace. It cometh therefore to this, Lord: I have considered thy word; And henceforth will be thy bird. --George Macdonald. GOD KEEPS HIS OWN I do not know whether my future lies Through calm or storm; Whether the way is strewn with broken ties, Or friendships warm. This much I know: Whate'er the pathway trod, All else unknown, I shall be guided safely on, for God Will keep his own. Clouds may obscure the sky, and drenching rain Wear channels deep; And haggard want, with all her bitter train, Make angels weep. And those I love the best, beneath the sod May sleep alone; But through it all I shall be led, for God Will keep his own. --Sarah Knowles Bolton. CARE THOU FOR ME Care Thou for me! Let me not care! Too weak am I, dear Lord, to bear The heavy burdens of the day; And oft I walk with craven feet Upon life's rough and toilsome way; How sweet to feel, how passing sweet, Thy watchful presence everywhere! Care Thou for me! Let me not care! Care Thou for me! Why should I care, And looks of gloomy sadness wear, And fret because I cannot see (Thy wisdom doth ordain it so) The path thou hast marked out for me? My Father's plan is best, I know, It will be light, sometime--somewhere-- Care thou for me! Why should I care? Care Thou for me! Let me not care! This, each new day, shall be my prayer; Thou, who canst read my inmost heart, Dost know I am exceeding frail; Both just and merciful thou art, Whose loving kindness ne'er shall fail; My human nature thou wilt spare; Care Thou for me! I will not care! THE SPARROW I am only a little sparrow, A bird of low degree; My life is of little value, But the dear Lord cares for me. He gave me a coat of feathers; It is very plain, I know, With never a speck of crimson, For it was not made for show, But it keeps me warm in winter, And it shields me from the rain; Were it bordered with gold or purple Perhaps it would make me vain. I have no barn or storehouse, I neither sow nor reap; God gives me a sparrow's portion, But never a seed to keep. If my meal is sometimes scanty, Close picking makes it sweet; I have always enough to feed me, And "life is more than meat." I know there are many sparrows, All over the world we are found; But our heavenly Father knoweth When one of us falls to the ground.