There are some hearts like wells, green-mossed and deep
As ever summer saw;
And cool their water is--yea, cool and sweet,
But you must come to draw.
They hoard not, yet they rest in calm content,
And not unsought will give;
They can be quiet with their wealth unspent--
So self-contained they live.
And there are some like springs, that bubbling burst
To follow dusty ways,
And run with offered cup to quench his thirst
Where the tired traveler strays.
That never ask the meadow if they want
What is their joy to give;
Unasked their lives to other life they grant--
So self-bestowed they live.
And One is like the ocean, deep and wide,
Wherein all waters fall;
That girdles the broad earth and draws the tide,
Feeding and bearing all,
That breathes the mists, that sends the clouds abroad,
That takes again to give;
Even the great and loving heart of God,
Whereby all love doth live.
