Holy Water

16 08 2015
Holy Water

Holy Water


“Truly, truly I say to you, unless someone is born of water and spirit, he is not able to enter into the kingdom of God.”

Jesus the Nazarene

Beside Quiet Water

2 10 2014

Beside Still Waters

“He leadeth me beside the still waters.”  Psalm 23:2

Going for Water

23 10 2013

The well was dry beside the door,
And so we went with pail and can
Across the fields behind the house
To seek the brook if still it ran;

Not loth to have excuse to go,
Because the autumn eve was fair
(Though chill), because the fields were ours,
And by the brook our woods were there.

We ran as if to meet the moon
That slowly dawned behind the trees,
The barren boughs without the leaves,
Without the birds, without the breeze.

But once within the wood, we paused
Like gnomes that hid us from the moon,
Ready to run to hiding new
With laughter when she found us soon.

Each laid on other a staying hand
To listen ere we dared to look,
And in the hush we joined to make
We heard, we knew we heard the brook.

A note as from a single place,
A slender tinkling fall that made
Now drops that floated on the pool
Like pearls, and now a silver blade.

Robert Frost

Going for Water

The Waterfall

17 08 2013
With what deep murmurs through time’s silent stealth
Doth thy transparent, cool, and wat’ry wealth
       Here flowing fall,
       And chide, and call,
As if his liquid, loose retinue stay’d
Ling’ring, and were of this steep place afraid;
       The common pass
       Where, clear as glass,
       All must descend
       Not 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 I
       Have sate and pleas’d my pensive eye,
       Why, since each drop of thy quick store
       Runs 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 back
       So sure to thee, that none doth lack,
       Why should frail flesh doubt any more
       That what God takes, he’ll not restore?


       O useful element and clear!
       My sacred wash and cleanser here,
       My first consigner unto those
       Fountains of life where the Lamb goes!
       What sublime truths and wholesome themes
       Lodge in thy mystical deep streams!
       Such as dull man can never find
       Unless that Spirit lead his mind
       Which first upon thy face did move,
       And hatch’d all with his quick’ning love.
       As this loud brook’s incessant fall
       In streaming rings restagnates all,
       Which reach by course the bank, and then
       Are 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.
Henry Vaughan
wet and wild 2

A Little Rill

26 07 2013

There is a little unpretending Rill
Of limpid water, humbler far than aught
That ever among Men or Naiads sought
Notice or name! It quivers down the hill,
Furrowing its shallow way with dubious will;
Yet to my mind this scanty Stream is brought
Oftener than Ganges or the Nile; a thought
Of private recollection sweet and still!
Months perish with their moons; year treads on year!
But, faithful Emma! thou with me canst say
That, while ten thousand pleasures disappear,
And flies their memory fast almost as they;
The immortal Spirit of one happy day
Lingers beside that Rill, in vision clear.


William Wordsworth

blue cascade (lite)

A Pool of Water

21 05 2013

The poor and the needy are seeking water and there is none;
their tongue is dried up with thirst.
I, Yahweh, will answer them;
I, the God of Israel, will not forsake them.
I will open rivers on the barren heights
and fountains in the midst of the valleys.
I will make the wilderness like a pool of water
and the land of dryness like springs of water.
I will put the cedar, acacia, myrtle, and olive oil tree in the wilderness;
I will set the cypress, elm, and box tree together in the desert
           so that they may see and know,
and take to heart and understand together
that the hand of Yahweh has done this…

Isaiah 41:17-20

Lexham English Bible (LEB)

paradise pool

My Other Home

29 04 2013

vernal spring

It was an April morning: fresh and clear
The Rivulet, delighting in its strength,
Ran with a young man’s speed; and yet the voice
Of waters which the winter had supplied
Was softened down into a vernal tone.
The spirit of enjoyment and desire,
And hopes and wishes, from all living things
Went circling, like a multitude of sounds.
The budding groves seemed eager to urge on
The steps of June; as if their various hues
Were only hindrances that stood between
Them and their object: but, meanwhile, prevailed
Such an entire contentment in the air
That every naked ash, and tardy tree
Yet leafless, showed as if the countenance
With which it looked on this delightful day
Were native to the summer.–Up the brook
I roamed in the confusion of my heart,
Alive to all things and forgetting all.
At length I to a sudden turning came
In this continuous glen, where down a rock
The Stream, so ardent in its course before,
Sent forth such sallies of glad sound, that all
Which I till then had heard, appeared the voice
Of common pleasure: beast and bird, the lamb,
The shepherd’s dog, the linnet and the thrush
Vied with this waterfall, and made a song,
Which, while I listened, seemed like the wild growth
Or like some natural produce of the air,
That could not cease to be. Green leaves were here;
But ’twas the foliage of the rocks–the birch,
The yew, the holly, and the bright green thorn,
With hanging islands of resplendent furze:
And, on a summit, distant a short space,
By any who should look beyond the dell,
A single mountain-cottage might be seen.
I gazed and gazed, and to myself I said,
‘Our thoughts at least are ours; and this wild nook,
My Emma, I will dedicate to thee.’
—-Soon did the spot become my other home,
My dwelling, and my out-of-doors abode.
And, of the Shepherds who have seen me there,
To whom I sometimes in our idle talk
Have told this fancy, two or three, perhaps,
Years after we are gone and in our graves,
When they have cause to speak of this wild place,
May call it by the name of Emma’s Dell.

William Wordsworth