On a bridge I was standing one morning,
And watching the current roll by,
When suddenly into the water
There fell an unfortunate fly.
The fishes that swam to the surface,
Were looking for something to eat,
And I thought that the hapless young insect
Would surely afford them a treat.
"Poor thing," I exclaimed with compassion,
"Thy trials and dangers abound,
For if thou escap'st being eaten,
Thou canst not escape being drowned."
No sooner the sentence was spoken,
Than lo, like an angel of love,
I saw, to the waters beneath me,
A leaflet descend from above.
It glided serene on the streamlet,
'Twas an ark to the poor little fly;
Which, soon to the land reascending,
Spread its wings to the breezes to dry.
Oh, sweet was the truth that was whispered,
That mortals should _never_ despair,
For He that takes care of an insect,
Much more for His _children_ will care.
And though, to our short-sighted vision,
No way of escape may appear,
Let us trust, for when least we expect it,
The help of _our Father_ is near.