The Mockingbird, he sings alone, to those who hear his voice,
He sings a song to God above; in this he has no choice.
He spread his wings, in joy he sings, he simply can’t resist,
His song of praise begins the days, and cuts through morning mist.
He does not wait for choir or orchestra so grand,
His voice alone, its lovely tone, will rival any band.
The hymn he sings, like church bells ring, music to my ears,
It makes me think of God’s great Love, and stills my every fear.
Who can quiet his melody, or dare to quench his mood?
It warms my heart, and lifts my mind, and for my soul is food.
He seems to give with every note, robust, and hearty thanks,
High in a tree, by the river of life, he sings along its banks.
The river it runs from trickle to ocean, his song above its flow,
From drop of faith, to Gods home place, we like the river go.
So we should sing like mockingbird, and stifle not a note,
For we’re going toward the Promised Land, in joy we gladly tote
The Love of God, the greatest gift, that man has even known,
It came in form of a humble Man, dressed in skin and bone.
A Man named Jesus who suffered, and died, for each and every one,
He gave His life to end our strife, God’s only favored Son.
So sing to Him with all your heart, just like the mockingbird,
If you know Him, you can’t contain the beauty of His Word.
A love so strong it must belong, beyond confines of pride,
And don’t forget you sing to Him, who for your soul He died.
Hosanna! Hosanna! Unto the King, let your voices loudly ring,
One day in Heaven our praise we’ll bring, and with the angels like birds we’ll sing.
Tertius
“I tell you,” he replied, “If they keep quiet, the stones will cry out.”
Luke 19:40
A note about “Songbird”: Funny how a little bird can raise such praise to the Maker of his frame. But we, who’ve twice been given life, can barely do the same. I’ve always loved to listen to the mockingbird. It’s not about talent, it’s about joy!