Poetry Archives

And let him that is athirst come. And whosoever will, let
him take the water of life freely.—Revelation 22:17.


I wandered down a mountain road,
  Past flower and rock and lichen gray,
Alone with nature and her God
  Upon a flitting summer day.

The forest skirted to the edge
  Of Capon river, Hampshire’s gem,
Which, bathing many a primrose ledge,
  Oft sparkled like a diadem.

At length a silvery spring I spied,
  Gurgling through moss and fern along,
Waiting to bless with cooling tide
  All who were gladdened by its song.

Oh, who would pass with thirsting lip
  And burning brow, this limpid wave?
Who would not pause with joy and sip?
  Its crystal depths who would not crave?

This query woke a voice within—
  Why slight the spring of God’s great love,
That fount that cleanseth from all sin,
  Our purchase paid by Christ above?

Whoever will may drink! Oh, why,
  Worn toilers in this earthly strife,
Reject a mansion in the sky,
  Reject heaven’s bliss and endless life?