Flitting Time   Leave a comment


Above:  A Bird’s Nest

Image Source = Wikinoby



Long ago, one summer evening,

With the children ’round my knee,

I watched a mother bird attending

To her brood assiduously.


To and fro, from nest to meadow,

And from meadow back to nest

Flew she, until twilight warned her

It was time to go to rest.


And I wondered if that mother

Bird would grieve when, some bright day,

Her children should spread wide their wings,

Leave the nest, and fly away.


Now I think I know the answer,

For my nestlings soon will fly

From the nest.  E’en now they’re opening

Strong young winds exultantly,


While I’m watching them and helping

To make ready as I can;–

My own dreary heartache hidden

Underneath their merry plan.


They must flit just as the birds do;

‘Tis God’s plan and it is right,

But my nest will be as lonely

With the fall of each twilight.


There will be no youthful voices

Bidding “pleasant dreams,–goodnight,”

And no tender forms to cover

From the night wind’s chilling blight.


Still, for me remains this comfort–

Each of them is Jesus’ own;

Each one owns Him Lord and Master,

In each heart He has a throne.


And at last, beyond the river,

Where no partings ever come;

There I shall, with not one missing,

Once more have them all at home.


Leave a Reply

Please log in using one of these methods to post your comment:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s

This site uses Akismet to reduce spam. Learn how your comment data is processed.

%d bloggers like this: