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Nightingale, No. I
by
Judy Collins
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Jacob's heart bent with fear Like a bow with death for its arrow In Vain he search for the final truth To set his soul free of doubt Over the mountains he walked With his head bent searching for reasons Then he called out to God For help and climbed to the top of a hill Wind swept the sunlight through the wheat fields In the orchard the nightingale sang While the plums that she broke with her brown beak Tomorrow would turn in to songs Then she flew up through the rain With the sun silver bright on her feathers Jacob put back his frowns and sighed and walked Back down the hill God doesn't answer me and He never will
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