by Deacon Richard Lawrence
This desire for happiness – if any more
this soul could scarcely bear the gift,
For happiness seems always to avoid my grasp
like wrapping fingers ‘round a flowing drink.
And should I hold it in my hand,
it teases me, but only for a moment,
then slips away, leaving this soul
to thirst for more.
This desire for happiness – if any more
this soul could know the Giver.
For a drink I would ask of Him instead,
as did He the woman at the well.
And upon His hand I would press my lips,
His fingers wrapped ‘round the Dipper filled full,
then sip the Living Water, leaving my soul
to thirst no more.
