The Broken Pinion

I walked through the woodland meadows,
where sweet the thrushes sing;
And I found on a bed of mosses
A Bird with a broken wing.
I healed its wound and each morning
It sang its old sweet strain,
But the bird with a broken pinion
Never soared as high again.

I found a young life broken
by Sin’s seductive art:
And touched with Christlike pity,
I took him to my heart.
He lived with a noble purpose.
And struggled not in vain;
But the life that Sin had stricken
Never soared as high again.

But the bird with a broken pinion
Kept another from the snare;
And the life that Sin had stricken
Raised another from despair.
Each loss has its compensation,
There is healing for every pain;
But the bird with a broken pinion
Never soars as high again.

– Hezekiah Butterworth

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