The Water

Come here, my friend, and speak with me:
    What did the river tell you?
When you sat alone by stream on stone,
    and the year was bright and new?

She told me of a secret name
    as she went her ancient way,
given to me from eternity
by the One who overcame.

And then, my friend, that summer morn:
    What did the ocean tell you?
When you went and gazed into her waves
    and the sky and sea were blue?

She told me of a silent place
    deep in the mind of God,
where the truth of me that I long to see
is reflected in His face.

What joy, my friend! What happened then?
    What did the fountain tell you?
When you smiled to see a little child
    gasp as the waters flew?

She told me of a memory
    which will be true again,
when days are long and full of song
and little hearts are free.

And now, old friend, at season’s end:
    What did the water tell you?
When all seemed dry, you knew not why,
    but the quiet well-spring grew?

You told me of a little road:
    it is wild and overgrown,
but life is there for one who dares
to walk where waters flow.

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