Her name was Annie Johnson Flint (1866 - 1932), the author of the poem below. She knew of burdens, the need for courage, she knew of just asking the Lord for the strength for the day. Her Poetry and Hymns were written from her own experiences and adversities.
Annie was known as the “poet of helpfulness”, and often gave her poetry as gifts to friends. As her poems became more widely known, many were set to music. I have previously written about Annie, and you can find that here: Annie Johnson Flint
THE LITTLE BIRDS OF GOD
by Annie Johnson Flint
I HEAR them at my window in the late, gray winter dawn,
The little birds of God, the farthing sparrows of His care;
They ask of me, as I of Him, His gift of daily bread.
With soft, impatient twitterings they voice their morning prayer.
The heavenly Father feedeth them, the little birds of God,
Though ’tis my hand that scattereth the food within their reach;
I do but share His bounty when I give the crumbs to them.
doubting heart and anxious heart, what lessons they can teach!
They sow not, neither do they reap, nor gather into barns,
Content if but each day shall bring the day’s supply of food;
No question whence it comes, nor if the morrow bringeth more
Small optimists in feathers, who are sure that all is good!
God seeth when they fly or fall. Am I less worth than they?
I would not fail them in their need. Is He less true than I?
I would not mock their faith in me, nor hurt them, nor betray;
I answer to their trusting call, He to His children’s cry.
When sunset tints the fading light and dusk is falling fast,
The while I draw the curtains close and stir the hearth-fire bright,
I hear their cheerful chirping, the little birds of God,
And wonder to what shelter they are fleeing for the night.
But they, as I, shall rest secure beneath the wings of Love,
Though storm and darkness sweep the sea and cover all the land.
My life and theirs, so small and frail, God’s care of both the same;
My soul a nesting bird within the hollow of His hand.
