Rejoice dear bird
And praise thy Maker,
Raise bright and clear thy voice,
Thy God is most exalted,
Thy food he hath prepared for thee
To give thee in due season.
So be content therewith,
Wherefore shalt thou not be glad,
Wilt thou arraign thy God
That he hath made thee bird?
Wilt trouble thy wee head
That he made thee not a man?
Be still, he hath it well bethought
And be content therewith.
What do I then, a worm of earth
To judge along with God?
That I in this heaven’s storm
Do wrestle with all art.
Thou canst not fight with God.
And whoso is not fit for this, let him be sped away
O Man, be satisfied
That he hath made thee not the King
And take it not amiss,
Perchance hadst thou despised his name,
That were a sorry matter:
For God hath clearer eyes that that
He looks into thy heart,
Thou canst not God deceive.
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The power is in knowing that you are the center of the universe