A little bird perched in a tree,
Broke forth in pleasant harmony.
With such abandonment her sang,
A joyous musical refrain.
His heart seemed ever full and sure.
His song was beautiful and clear.
He seemed to sing it for the King,
A Higher source that ruled and reigned.
For somehow, I distinctly knew,
The Spirit’s breath must have blown through,
And touched this tiny, feathered form.
His Presence lingered in the song.
I marveled at creative ways,
The Lord will fill the earth with praise.
How often does He stir and speak,
In ways we humans fail to see?
The wonderous songs of birds above,
The chirp of crickets, croak of frogs.
The gallant horse that gallops through,
The waving grass that sings in tune.
The harmony found in the sea,
As whales and dolphins freely spray,
Among the thundering waves—that
Offer their uproarious praise.
While looking at the world He made,
We often fail to see the grace,
And hear the sounds creation makes.
To life in royal majesty,
Outstanding praises for the King.