Poem August 11, 1934 Issue

Water in the Desert

F. MILDRED RICKMAN

He knelt alone upon the desert sand,
Lifting his thought to God in the still even.
No human aid, no earthly help at hand.
O loving Father, Thou which art in heaven,
He prayed, and strove to know Love all around
While the night fell, and stars shone out above.
Water had failed, none rose in that parched ground;
Yet did he know that his supply was Love.

Rocks, and a waste of sand; just wilderness
It seemed, the valley of the shade of death!
He felt God's presence e'en in his distress,
And drank of Truth's life-giving stream, through faith.
So lay he in the dust through the long night,
And called on God, and waited for the light.

And lo, with dawn, a solitary bird
Stooped down into a cleft where shadows lay,
And following the winged messenger he heard
A singing stream that flowed to meet the day.
Like Moses unto Horeb's rock he came
And lifted up his eyes, and knew at hand
No more the scorching sand, the searing flame,
But watered shelter in this thirsty land.
And lifting wide his arms to the bright heaven,
God's glory praised, that He is everywhere,
Who to each one water of life hath given—
Father, I thank Thee; Thou hast heard my prayer!

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