Classic Poem

The sparrows still are lingering here,
Though winter-time has come;
Within the swamp, or piny wood,
They find a sheltering home.

They flit along the turnpike's side,
As in the early Spring;
Though they no songs of pleasant cheer
May to the passer bring.

Nor are they left, when Autumn's past,
To perish in their need;
They still find every want supplied
With berries, grain and seed.

They need no care of man to feed,
Nor for them to provide
A shelter, in the wintry storm,
Where they may safe abide.

Our heavenly Father cares for them,
Who cares alike for all;
He made their shelter from the cold,
And hears their feeble call.