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.
—Esther Fiedler.