1 The bird, let loose in eastern skies,
When hastening fondly home,
Ne’er stoops to earth her wing, nor flies
Where idle warblers roam.

2 But high she shoots through air and light,
Above all low delay,
Where nothing earthly bounds her flight,
Nor shadow dims her way.

3 So grant me, God, from every care
And stain of passion free,
Aloft, through virtue’s purer air,
To hold my course to Thee!

4 No sin to cloud, no lure to stay
My soul, as home she springs—
Thy sunshine on her joyful way,
Thy freedom in her wings!