The following poem, "The Sparow," is anonymous, and has been on the wall at my mother's home for many years. It seems to speak about both her and myself, and I include it here to bless someone who sees little reward in this life and many challenges, yet finds God is faithful and sufficient for each day and its trials and tests.--Ed.
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--
'Tis very plain, it's true,
With never a speck of crimson,
For it was not made for view.
But it keeps me warm in winter,
It shields me from the rain;
Were it bordered with gold or purple,
Perhaps it would make me vain.
And now that the Springtime cometh,
I will build me a little nest.
With many a chirp of pleasure,
In the spot I like the best.
I have no barn or storehouse,
I never sow nor reap;
God gives me a sparrow's portion,
But never a seed to keep.