Two are athirst—(The disciple)

(The Saviour of the World, Vol V Book III Poem XXX)

If any man in the world, at any time,
Be weary, feverish, exhausted, faint,
Through heavy wanderings in the horrid clime
The world affords its votaries—all attaint,—

Come unto Me, saith Christ to such an one,
Drink and be plenished with full life again
As when a child thou revelled’st: is there none
Holds cup to thee in all life’s dreary plain?

Like the child Ishmael, wouldst lie down and die?
Is nothing worth thy while, when every day
Repeats the last in dull monotony?
What ails thee then—hast thou no skill to say?

Two are athirst in this drought,—I, for thee;
And thou, not knowing, thirstest sore for Me!

Psalm xlii. 1, 2.

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