See, sister, where the chickens trip,
All busy in the morn!
Look how their heads they dip and dip,
To peck the scattered corn!
Dear sister, shall we shut our eyes,
And to the sight be blind,
Nor think of HIM who food supplies
To us and all mankind?
Whether our wants be much or few,
Or fine or coarse our fare,
To Heaven's protecting care is due
The voice of praise and prayer.
Hen And Chickens. (From The Villager's Verse-Book.)
William Lisle Bowles
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