I heard the robin singing
His happy morning song;
I saw his happy helpmeet bringing
Their breakfast to the young;
And to me came a whisper,
In winds that fanned the trees;
‘If God for these so careth,
Will he not care for thee?’

I saw the roses growing
In beauty day by day;
No queen in all her glory,
So lovely in array.
And on their leaves were written
Sweet words of trust for me:
‘If God so clothed the roses,
Will he not care for thee?’

I thank thee, O my Father,
That ‘mid life’s toil and dust,
The birds and flow’rs can bring me
Such heav’nly hope and trust;
Quickened by faith they whisper
The Master’s word to me:
‘If God for these so careth,
Will he not care for thee?’