A small flock of sparrows, upon the plains
Made many a-nest, ‘neath the sun in the sage
One day their fairweather, no longer came
These birds of a feather, took to the wind and rain
Yet among them, were three sparrows, each found a different way.
If you’ve got ears to hear, let their story say.
The first found a table, of crumbs without toil
Lingering day by day, that table never soiled.
He went long without hunger, drank free from thirst.
As the heavens lost thunder, his soul lost its search
And among them three sparrows, each found a different way.
If you’ve got ears to hear, let the second say.
The second built a home within, a great oak tree
Sheltered from the seasons, in sprawling canopies
In the stillness of her branches, his dim glowing night
Had long quit callin’, upon him to rise
If you’ve got ears to hear, let the third’n say.
The third remained upon the wind, never long to rest
Many streams, many fields, where the sky called he went
He felt the sting of the storm, the warmth of the sun
Tearing of the thorns, cleansing of the dawns
Though his wings grew weary, they never did grow weak
And his song was heard, in many lands of green, in many lands of green
