Athirst

I would be but a dewdrop Lord, Glistening on some flower, That I may cool a sin-fevered heart In the morning hour. Or only a trickling mountain stream I would contentedly be: If in the flow of life, Thy grace, Reflected, men could see. ‘Tis often, Lord, I fain Would bring a bit of heaven to earth, Make me a part of the cooling rain To come in time of dearth. But if I be a shaded pool, Some quiet spot to fill, Help me to wait, in patience still, Knowing it is Thy will. Grace