In darkness is the fledgeling born
with eyes that can see naught
the scales that mask its shiv'ring flesh
espy its plaintive lot.
Though lungs can cry and mouth can feed
of both 'tis not aware
for in this sheltered nest it finds
it darkest fears laid bare.
Little does the bird yet know
its mother's always near.
I wish that I could tell it so
and perhaps, allay its fear.
How can, I ask, this little bird
find comfort in this nest?
By feeling that the mother's near,
can this creature feel rest.
The bird by faith must know and trust
what things it cannot see
and hope for all the things to come
when at last it's free.
So to we must, as children here
find comfort in our Friend
and know that though the night is dark
He holds us 'til the end.
And when your days as child have gone
and you find your sight anew
then look behind at all that's come
and know He's seen you through.