“Once I heard a song of sweetness as it cleft the morning air,
sounding in its blest completeness like a tender, pleading prayer.
And I sought to find the singer whence the wondrous song was borne,
and I found a bird sore wounded, pinioned by a cruel thorn.
I have seen a soul in sadness while its wings with pain were furled,
giving hope and cheer and gladness that should bless a weeping world.
And I knew that life of sweetness was of pain and sorrow borne,
and a stricken soul was singing with its heart against a thorn.
We are told of cruel scourging, of a Savior bearing scorn,
and He died for your salvation with His brow against a thorn.
You are not above the Master. Will you breathe a sweet refrain?
Then His grace will be sufficient when your heart is pierced with pain.”