The Living Fountain

Weary pil­grim

will you go

Where the liv­ing wa­ters flow

Where the fount­ain deep and still

Flows from Zi­on’s bless­èd hill?

Soft the ver­dure by its side

Clear as crys­tal is its tide;

Sunshine lights the rip­ples o’er

As they soft­ly bathe the shore.

Weary of the world­ly strife

Thirsting for a nob­ler life

To the fount­ain quick­ly speed;

It will sa­tis­fy your need.

When by care and toil op­pressed

Seek that bless­èd fount and rest;

Rest thee on its peace­ful shore;

Drink

and thou shalt thirst no more.