let the heart release its heavy freight of care,
for life is more than the bread we chase at dawn
and the body far beyond the cloth we wear.
See how the sparrows lift on careless wing,
they neither plant in furrowed rows nor store
their harvest in the shadowed barns of spring,
yet every dawn your Father gives them more.
They dart through fields where wild winds weave and play,
untroubled by the lean days yet to come,
their tiny frames sustained from day to day
by grace that asks no labor, plants no sum.
And are you not of greater worth than these,
you who bear His image in your fragile clay,
whose thoughts reach out to touch eternities
while sparrows only sing the present day?
Consider now the measure of our fear—
can anxious hours stretch the span of breath?
Can furrowed brow add moments to the year
or turn the dial of life away from death?
No single cubit rises from our strife,
no extra day is purchased through our dread;
the worry chains us, steals the joy of life,
and leaves the soul impoverished instead.
Yet look again upon the open sky
where birds in freedom circle without plan—
their trust is simple as the morning cry,
their provision hidden in the Father's hand.
So let the mind lie down beneath the care
that once it carried like a crushing stone;
release the tomorrow waiting somewhere
and rest within the providence you've known.
For He who clothes the grass with fleeting green,
who paints the lily brighter than a king,
will not forget the ones whose hopes have been
entrusted to the shelter of His wing.
Be still, and know the quiet of His keeping,
where ravens find their food and sparrows soar;
the anxious heart finds peace in deeper sleeping,
when trust replaces fear forevermore.
In every season, let this truth abide:
your life is held by One who never fails—
the birds of heaven teach us to confide
in love that gathers even as it sails.
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