Matthew 6:26-30

• [Mat 6:26] There’s Not A Bird With Lonely Nest

  There’s not a bird with lonely nest, In pathless wood or mountain crest, Nor meaner thing, which does not share, O God, in Thy paternal care. Each barren crag, each desert rude, Holds Thee within its solitude; And Thou dost bless the wand’rer there, Who makes his solitary prayer. In busy mart and crowded street, No less than in the still retreat, Thou, Lord, art near, our souls to bless With all a parent’s tenderness. And we, where’er our lot is cast, While life, and thought, and feeling last, Through all the years, in every place, Will bless Thee for Thy boundless grace.

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  source: Cyberhymnal

• [Mat 6:28] Flower Carol

  Spring has now unwrapped the flowers, day is fast reviving, Life in all her growing powers towards the light is striving: Gone the iron touch of cold, winter time and frost time, Seedlings, working through the mould, now make up for lost time. Herb and plant that, winter long, slumbered at their leisure, Now bestirring, green and strong, find in growth their pleasure; All the world with beauty fills, gold the green enhancing, Flowers make glee among the hills, set the meadows dancing. Through each wonder of fair days God Himself expresses; Beauty follows all His ways, as the world He blesses: So, as He renews the earth, Artist without rival, In His grace of glad new birth we must seek revival. Earth puts on her dress of glee; flowers and grasses hide her; We go forth in charity—brothers all beside her; For, as man this glory sees in th’awakening season, Reason learns the heart’s decrees, hearts are led by reason. Praise the Maker, all ye saints; He with glory girt you, He Who skies and meadows paints fashioned all your virtue; Praise Him, seers, heroes, kings, heralds of perfection; Brothers, praise Him, for He brings all to resurrection!

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  source: Cyberhymnal

• [Mat 6:28] Little Cares Which Fretted Me, The

  The little cares which fretted me, I lost them yesterday Among the fields, above the sea, Among the winds at play; Among the lowing of the herds, The rustling of the trees, Among the singing of the birds, The humming of the bees. The foolish fears of what may come, I cast them all away Among the clover scented grass, Among the new mown hay; Among the hushing of the corn, Where drowsing poppies nod, Ill thoughts can die, and good be born, Out in the fields of God.

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  source: Cyberhymnal