Come, come little birdie,
Come here to our door,
And pick up the crumbs,
That fall to the floor.
I’ll not frighten nor harm you,
Nor chase you away,—
But feed you and pet you,
So come every day.
I know that our Father,
Who lives up above,
Is thinking about you
In goodness and love.
You may not have storehouse,
Nor shelter, nor bed,-
But God watches o’er you,
And you shall be fed.
He cares for the sparrows,
He feeds all the birds,
And He blesses dear children
Who heed His kind words.
He measures their sorrows,
He thinks of their fears,
He bids them come to Him,
Though tender in years.
Then come little birdie,
Come here and be fed,
And come little children—
To Jesus be led.
He’s waiting to bless you,
Oh! do you not see,
His kind invitation
Is “Come unto Me.”
ML 06/11/1899