Lyric

Somewhere out there one bird sings

Small and certain of good things

I walk the field before it's warm

Before the day can take its form

The grass is tall and beaded bright

And keeps the last cool of the night

Consider how the small birds live

Not sowing, yet He still will give

Meadowlark, sing me slow

Teach me what the mornings know

Nothing hoarded, nothing feared

Just the singing, bright and clear

It does not worry where to eat

It just goes singing, sweet and sweet

And somehow all of it is fed

The field, the bird, the daily bread

Meadowlark, sing me slow

Teach me what the mornings know

Nothing hoarded, nothing feared

Just the singing, bright and clear

If He feeds the smallest wing

He will surely hold this thing

Meadowlark, sing me slow

Teach me what the mornings know

Nothing hoarded, nothing feared

Just the singing, bright and clear

Somewhere out there one bird sings

Small and certain of good things