| Once I heard a song of sweetness, As it cleft the morning air, Sounding in its blest completeness, Like a tender,pleading prayer; And I sought to find the singer, Whence the wondrous song was borne; And I found a bird,sore wounded, Pinioned by a cruel thorn. I have seen a soul in sadness, While it`s wings with pain were furl`d, Giving hope and cheer and gladness That should bless a weeping world; And I knew that life of sweetness, Was of pain and sorrow borne, And a stricken soul was singing, With it`s heart against a thorn. Ye are told of One who loved you, Of a saviour crucified, Ye are told of nails that pinioned, And a spear that pierced His side; Ye are told of cruel scourging Of a Saviour bearing scorn, And He died for your salvation, With His brow against a thorn. Ye"are not above the Master," Will you breathe a sweet refrain? And His grace will be sufficient, When your heart is pierced withh pain. Will you live to bless His loved ones, Tho` your life be bruised and torn, Like the bird that sang so sweetly, With its heart against a thorn? | 
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