THE PROVIDENCE OF GOD

About two hundred years ago Madam Guyon, after ten years spent in a dungeon far below the surface of the ground, lit only by a candle at meal times, wrote these words:

A little bird I am,
Shut from the fields of air;
Yet in my cage I sit and sing
To Him who placed me there;
Well pleased a prisoner to be
Because, my God, it pleases thee.

Naught have I else to do,
I sing the whole day long;
And He whom most I love to please,
Doth listen to my song;
He caught and bound my wandering wing
But still He bends to hear me sing.

My cage confines me round;
Abroad I cannot fly;
But though my wing is closely bound,
My heart’s at liberty.
My prison walls cannot control
The flight, the freedom of my soul.

Ah! it is good to soar
These bolts and bars above,
To Him whose purpose I adore,
Whose Providence I love;
And in thy mighty will to find
The joy, the freedom of the mind.

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