DRAWING WATER by PHOEBE CARY

HE had drunk from founts of pleasure,
And his thirst returned again;
He had hewn out broken cisterns,
And behold! his work was vain.

And he said, "Life is a desert,
Hot, and measureless, and dry;
And God will not give me water,
Though I strive, and faint, and die."

Then he heard a voice make answer,
"Rise and roll the stone away;
Sweet and precious springs lie hidden
In thy pathway every day."

And he said, his heart was sinful,
Very sinful was his speech:
"All the cooling wells I thirst for
Are too deep for me to reach."

But the voice cried, "Hope and labor;
Doubt and idleness is death;
Shape a clear and goodly vessel,
With the patient hands of faith."

So he wrought and shaped the vessel,
Looked, and lo! a well was there;
And he drew up living water,
With a golden chain of prayer.

Classic and Contemporary Poetry

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