Mathew 6: 23-27
The farmyard is a happy scene of noises.
The hen, contented, chuckles with her brood.
When swift o’erhead dark wings begins to hover,
As swift, the hen, alert, doth change her mood.
She cries aloud, an urgent stringent warning.
She calls and pleads, ”Come right unto my side,”
Her wings outstretched to shelter all her chickens,
”Come nearer chicks, beneath these you can hide.”
But one small chick doth wander on unheeding.
He does not see the shadow sweeping low,
”Why should I heed the call? There is no danger.”—
And then his body crumples ‘neath the blow.
Dear Saviour, let me not be deaf to warnings
And wander off, despite Thy urgent call.
I would not be the chick in the hawks talons.
”Under Thy wings,” my only shelt’ring wall.