Way up high in the sky
The birds of the air gather in flight
They do not reap, nor do they sow
Yet hungry days they've never known

So if He feeds them so,
Why is my faith so low?

So do not worry about tomorrow
For tomorrow will worry all on its own

While down below the lilies grow
Coloring the fields in their brilliant clothes
They will not last, nor will they stay
Some will go unnoticed and burn away

So if He clothes them so,
What's wrong with my wardrobe?

So do not worry about tomorrow
For tomorrow will worry all on its own

Way up high in the sky
The birds of the air gather in flight