The Lark and the Finch
A poor lark was kept in a cage that hung on a wall, in a town that was full of dust and dirt. One day, as he stood on his piece of dead turf, to trill out his sweet song, a finch, who by chance flew that way, said, “How canst thou sing so blithe a strain, shut up in that vile cage?” “Finch, finch,” rang out the lark, in his clear tones, “know you not that if I did not sing while I am shut up here, I should fail to call to mind my song, when the time came for me to mount up to the sky?”
It is meet for us to sing hymns of praise while we are on earth, to fit us for our flight to realms of bliss.