I found the following poem in Arthur W. Pink's Sovereignty of God. Written by a woman named Jeanne Guyon. Although I do not agree with some of the theology Mrs. Guyon held to during her life, I cannot but admire the spirit with which she was able to, "after ten years of lying in a dungeon lit only by a candle at meal times," pen these words. May her spirit infect us all.
A little bird am I,
Shut from the fields of air;
Yet in my cage I sit and sing,
To whom who placed me there,
Well pleased a prisoner to be,
Because, my God, it pleases Thee.
Nought have I else to do,
I sing the whole day long;
And he whom most I love to please,
Doth listen to my song;
He caught my wondering wing
But still He bends to hear me sing.
My cage confines me round;
Abroad I cannot fly;
But though my wing is tightly bound,
My heart's at liberty,
My prison walls cannot control
The flight, the freedom of the soul,
Ah! it is good to soar,
These bolts and bars above,
To Him whose purpose I adore,
Whose Providence I love;
And in Thy mighty will to find
The joy, the freedom of the mind.
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