Soft and low a voice is calling,
Bids me leave my toil and care,
On my ear the accents falling
Glad and free I hasten there.
‘Tis the voice of nature pleading
Sweet, like music in the air;
And ’tis God’s great hand that’s leading
Me to seek and find Him there.
Little birds to me are singing
Of a God who’s over all;
Merrily their flight are winging,
Knowing He’ll not let them fall.
Little flowers to me are speaking
Of a God who’s always true;
Nature, as a whole, is seeking
To impart me life anew.
Oh! that I might heed her teaching,
Be more trustful every day ;
List the sermons she is preaching
Pointing to the heavenward way.
Day by day from her I’m learning,
Walking paths that Jesus trod,
Till at last my heart is turning
Upward, to sweet nature’s God.