The Water-Fall
With what deep murmurs through time's silent stealthDoth thy transparent, cool, and wat'ry wealthHere flowing fall,And chide, and call,As if his liquid, loose retinue stay'dLing'ring, and were of this steep place afraid;The common passWhere, clear as glass,All must descendNot to an end,But quicken'd by this deep and rocky grave,Rise to a longer course more bright and brave.
Dear stream! dear bank, where often IHave sate and pleas'd my pensive eye,Why, since each drop of thy quick storeRuns thither whence it flow'd before,Should poor souls fear a shade or night,Who came, sure, from a sea of light?Or since those drops are all sent backSo sure to thee, that none doth lack,Why should frail flesh doubt any moreThat what God takes, he'll not restore?
O useful element and clear!My sacred wash and cleanser here,My first consigner unto thoseFountains of life where the Lamb goes!What sublime truths and wholesome themesLodge in thy mystical deep streams!Such as dull man can never findUnless that Spirit lead his mindWhich first upon thy face did move,And hatch'd all with his quick'ning love.As this loud brook's incessant fallIn streaming rings restagnates all,Which reach by course the bank, and thenAre no more seen, just so pass men.O my invisible estate,My glorious liberty, still late!Thou art the channel my soul seeks,Not this with cataracts and creeks.
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