(Psa. 84)
THINE altars, O Lord, as the Psalmist once sung,
Afforded the Sparrow a home;
The Swallow, too, found there a nest for her young,
Where she, for the time, ceas’d to roam.
The first, is a bird that to home ever cleaves,
Not caring to wander away;
The other, the place of her sojourning leaves,
In realms strange and distant to stray.
But though of such opposite habits these birds,
They both ‘neath the altars found rest;
For He who provides for the flocks and the herds,
A nook doth prepare for a nest.
Thus some, like the Sparrow, do not wish to rove,
But cling to the hearth and the home;
Or care but to ramble in woodland or grove,
Not far from the homestead to roam.
While, Swallow-like, others would rise on the wing,
And fly to the ends of the earth,
In search of some substance, or shadowy thing,
Not found in the ]and of their birth.
But whether a home, or a wandering, bird,
May’st thou, who art young, find a rest
In Jesus the Lord, through believing His Word,
And leaning thy soul on His breast!
No home upon earth, and no nation or clime,
Can shelter thy bosom from woes;
But Christ is the Refuge, and now is the time
In Him to find peace and repose.
T.