Poetry Archives

I that speak unto thee am he.—John 4:26.


She left her home that morn
In fair Samaria’s land,
All heedless of her state forlorn,
Sin-bound, both heart and hand.
With prejudicial pride
She scorned the meek request
Of One who sat the well beside,
With heat and thirst opprest.
“Thou art a Jew,” she said,
“And asketh drink of me?
Samaria’s daughter was not bred
To deal with such as thee.”
She would not yield a sip
E’en if its maker sued,
While he from love, with thirsting lip,
Sought and her heart renewed.
He made her ask for life,
Eternal life through him,
And “living water” was the type
To her perception dim.
O yes! She fain would taste
And never thirst again,
And never cross the burning waste
In weariness and pain!
Her life he questioned now;
Revealed her history.

She must have blushed. How could he know?
Here was a mystery!
Abashed she now replied,
“Thou art a prophet, sir!”
And straightway sought with clannish pride
Instruction’s voice to hear;
Instruction that will bless
The world each passing day,
For every spot man’s feet may press,
There may he praise and pray.
The woman lent her ear,
Then urged Messiah’s plea.
Amazing words she now doth hear,
“I that speak unto thee am he.”
What joy! The angels too
Must share it from above.
She left her water-pot, and flew
On feet made swift by love.
Oh, will these tidings last?
This news, it must be spread!
“He knows my present, knows my past;
This is the Christ,” she said.
That woman lost in sin
Drank of the living spring,
Then swiftly sped dead souls to win,
And to that fountain bring.

Forbid that we should shrink
To publish grace so free,
For all who will that tide may drink
And live eternally.

They begged that he would stay,
Believed the truths unfurled,
And joyfully received that day
The Saviour of the world.