I wandered down a mountain road,
Past flower and rock and lichen gray,
Alone with nature and her God
Upon a flitting summer day.
The forest skirted to the edge
Of Capon river, Hampshire's gem,
Which, bathing many a primrose ledge,
Oft sparkled like a diadem.
At length a silvery spring I spied,
Gurgling through moss and fern along,
Waiting to bless with cooling tide
All who were gladdened by its song.
Oh, who would pass with thirsting lip
And burning brow, this limpid wave?
Who would not pause with joy and sip?
Its crystal depths who would not crave?
This query woke a voice within —
Why slight the spring of God's great love,
That fount that cleanseth from all sin,
Our purchase paid by Christ above?
Whoever will may drink! Oh, why,
Worn toilers in this earthly strife,
Reject a mansion in the sky,
Reject heaven's bliss and endless life?