Oh, birdie dear, beware!
Poor fluttering thing, take care!
I fear you'll hurt your pretty wings
Against these hard, material things.
Would you were free to rise,
And seek your native skies,
And from those heights no more to roam,
Or seek a lower, earthly home.
And see! I ope your prison door!
Escape, and sing, and heavenward soar!
Oh! spirit from the blue,
This is no home for you.
In fleshly walls confined
Frets the aspiring mind;
Imprisoned here in human clay,
We pine and long to soar away.
The soul would burst these prison bars,
And find its home beyond the stars.
Oh! heaven born soul, beware!
Poor fluttering thing, take care!
Oh do not hurt your spirit wings
Against earth's hard material things;
A hand some day will ope your prison door!
Oh, glad escape, to sing, and heavenward soar!
These are a few of the many suggestions with which nature abounds,
pointing our faith beyond the bourne of time to the eternal glory
beyond. But we have no corresponding hints of endless wrath. To be sure,
there are suggestions of divine anger, but not that God will be angry
forever. Like the sun breaking out from behind a dark cloud,--
"Behind a frowning Providence
He hides a smiling face.
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