Of cistern waters art thou sick, And loath’st the mire they bring? Then hither stretch thy thirsty neck, And taste a living spring. A spring that issues from a rock, Where purest waters flow; And rocky hearts, by Moses struck, May to these waters go. Lord, draw me by thy secret touch, Or backward I shall start; For sure I want entreating much, So fearful is my heart. No spring will quench a thirst like this; It makes a conscience whole, Inspires the heart with heavenly bliss, And purifies the soul. Lord, draw me by thy secret touch, Or backward I shall start; For sure I want entreating much, So fearful is my heart. Whoe’er can truly say, “I thirst,” May come and take his fill; ’Tis free for sinners, vile and lost; ’Tis God who works the will. Its owner is a heavenly King; And by his winning ways, He draws the thirsty to his spring, Who drink and sing his praise. Lord, draw me by thy secret touch, Or backward I shall start; For sure I want entreating much, So fearful is my heart. Lord, draw me by thy secret touch, Or backward I shall start; For sure I want entreating much, So fearful is my heart. Lord, draw me by thy secret touch, Or backward I shall start; For sure I want entreating much, So fearful is my heart.
