He Sings

He sings

And hardly even knows the reason

He bobs

As cat-tails frolic in the breeze

He scolds

As anything of risk comes near the nestlings

He thrills

This little Lord o’er all the stream he sees.

We’re made

For noble purpose kindly birthed in Heaven

We work

Or teach or write or bake or care

We thank

For all the training of a simple providence

We praise

The Lord of life for all His mercies rare.


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Married and father of two. Living in Waterloo, Ontario. Workplace health and safety professional. Blogger. Poet. Nature hiker. History buff. Inspirational writer. Newsboy for Jesus.

3 thoughts on “He Sings”

  1. Male red-winged blackbird. Always cranky when you threaten his domain. Brilliant black, red and yellow contrast. Distinctive cry by bodies of water, singing tat-terreee, tat-terreee. Have watched females chase away large crows from nestlings. Worth a good laugh. Sort of a miniature version of David and Goliath. On moments mid-stream search the title Maternal.


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