OH, TELL ME, YE BIRDS 



Ye birds that to spheres empyrean belong. 



And cleave the vast oceans of air, 

 Oh, tell me, why only ye revel in song, 



Of all God's creation so fair. 

 No other plumed creatures that wander abroad 



In field or in fen ever pour 

 Forth passionate utt'rance of worship to God 



Like ye, who in azure depths soar. 



No creature that trails its slow progress along, 



Ungifted with swift, easy flight, 

 E'er startles the silence with jubilant song, 



Man's listening ear to delight; 

 None other but ye that mount ever on high, 



To heaven's imperial dome. 

 With ravishing chorals bring dews to the eye, 



And longings for heaven and home. 



Ah, surely, 'tis that the good Father has bid 



His angels reveal to ye birds 

 The glories of heaven in melodies hid. 



Too pure for expression in words. 

 That, hearing, we also in spirit may rise 



Above sordid pleasure and care, 

 And learn of the angels that dwell in the skies 



The glories that wait for us there. 



[9] 



