O ye of little
the fowls of the air: for they sow not, neither do they reap, nor gather
into barns; yet your heavenly Father feedeth them. Are ye not much
better than they?...
if God so clothe the grass of the field, which to day is, and to morrow
is cast into the oven, shall he not much more clothe you, O ye of little
seek ye first the kingdom of God, and his righteousness; and all these
things shall be added onto you. Matthew 6: 33
not anxious for the future, how you shall live next year, or when you
are old, or what you shall leave behind you. As we must not boast of
to-morrow, so we must not care for to-morrow, or the events of it. God
has given us life, and has given us the body. And what can he not do for
us, who did that ? If we take care about our souls and for eternity,
which are more that the body and its life, we may leave it to God to
provide for us food and raiment, which are less...
IS MY FATHERíS WORLD
is my Fatherís world, and to my listening ears
All nature sings, and round me rings the music of the spheres.
This is my Fatherís world: I rest me in the thought
Of rocks and trees, of skies and seas;
His hand the wonders wrought.
is my Fatherís world, the birds their carols raise,
The morning light, the lily white, declare their Makerís praise.
This is my Fatherís world: He shines in all thatís fair;
In the rustling grass I hear Him pass;
He speaks to me everywhere.
is my Fatherís world. O let me neíer forget
That though the wrong seems oft so strong, God is the ruler yet.
This is my Fatherís world: the battle is not done:
Jesus Who died shall be satisfied,
And earth and Heavín be one.
is my Fatherís world, dreaming, I see His face.
I ope my eyes, and in glad surprise cry, ďThe Lord is in this
This is my Fatherís world, from the shining courts above,
The Beloved One, His Only Son,
Cameóa pledge of deathless love.
is my Fatherís world, should my heart be ever sad?
The lord is Kingólet the heavens ring. God reignsólet the earth be
This is my Fatherís world. Now closer to Heaven bound,
For dear to God is the earth Christ trod.
No place but is holy ground.
is my Fatherís world. I walk a desert lone.
In a bush ablaze to my wondering gaze God makes His glory known.
This is my Fatherís world, a wanderer I may roam
Whateíer my lot, it matters not,
My heart is still at home.
D. Bab≠cock, 1901, alt. While a pas≠tor in Lock≠port, New York,
Bab≠cock liked to hike in an ar≠ea called ďthe es≠carp≠ment,Ē an
an≠cient up≠thrust ledge near Lock≠port. It has a mar≠vel≠ous view
of farms, or≠chards, and Lake On≠tar≠io, about 15 miles dis≠tant. It
is said those walks in the woods in≠spired these lyr≠ics. The ti≠tle
re≠calls an ex≠press≠ion Bab≠cock used when start≠ing a walk:
ďIím go≠ing out to see my Fa≠therís world.Ē
Terra Beata, tra≠di≠tion≠al Eng≠lish mel≠o≠dy,
L. Shep≠pard in his Al≠le≠lu≠ia, 1915