| Previous | Oct 20, 1996 | Next |
The Stream | ||
| Listen to the swishing stream, Catching every sunny beam. Who knows what it tries to say As it wanders on its way? In a language all its own It can every sin atone. Though it's not so pure to drink As it cascades o'er each brink, It is washing stones quite clean So they're ready to be seen. Praise the Lord for babbling brook, Worthy of a picture book. | ||
| Previous | Category Nature Categories Index | Next in Category |