When a baby bird is born, he's told that he can't fly.
Nobody will answer him when he asks them why.
He's told by all the other birds that the sky is not for him,
That he shouldn't chase a dream, or go out on a limb.
It's dangerous, he could fall,
It's not safe, he's too small.
All of these reasons, none make sense to him.

Then one day the bird wakes up and looks up at the sky.
"Today is the day I'm going to learn to fly."
He takes a step out on the branch, the ground's so far below,
But he doesn't let that stop him, though he's trembling to and fro.
His fear is all around him, it's holding down his wings.
Then a breeze floats past the bird, and with it hope it brings.
Carrying also on it the sweetness of a hymn.

Off the branch. Wings stretched wide. Towards the ground. Nothing to hide.
Wind racing past. Heart beating fast. Knowing with certainty, "I'm free at last!"
The little baby bird knows that at last his dream's come true.

And if we are lucky, it can happen to me and you.