Beside the door six water pots were ranged.
Empty for service. Fill them to the brim.
The Master bade; and soon each topmost rim
Gleamed with fresh moisture,—else they stood unchanged.
They draw and bear to him who rules the feast.
The water, vibrant to the Word divine.
Quick with the joy of service, thrilled to wine
Of such degree its praise has never ceased.
A miracle, we murmur, as we scan
The sacred page. Too seldom have we thought.
As we peruse the words, of lesson taught
In this first proving of the Son of Man,
Wrought with familiar things of common use—
An empty jar, then with clear water filled,
Whence without stint was thirsty clamor stilled
By draught so good as needed no excuse.
Wouldst thou aid greatly when some need appears?
Seek not strange means, nor other ways afar;
Fill to its brim thine empty water jar,
And draw therefrom, unmixed with doubts and fears,
The wine of God's providing; then shalt thou,
In swift unquestioning obedience,
Helping the world's great need, as recompense
Find thine own store the best wine, kept till now.
