Forlorn, they wandered in the wilderness—
The bondwoman with Ishmael, her child.
Their pot of water and their bread were spent.
Despairingly, she cast the child away
In anguish lest she see him pine and die.
In desert of her human hopes and tears
She heard an angel voice, "Fear not.... Arise,
Lift up the lad"! And she who was cast down
Arose; and lo, her opened eyes beheld
A well of water, cool and pure and deep,
Unseen before by Hagar's fear-closed eyes.
In bonds of lack, we too may hear a voice
Which bids us rise, lift up our thought of man
Till he is seen at one with God, his source.
No more the parched earth, desolate and drear—
The desert of a false, material sense—
Can hide from us the wellspring of all good:
Unfailing substance of outpouring Love,
Resources infinite of Soul are here
Awaiting recognition! Opened eyes
Behold supply at hand, as God's ideas
Fill consciousness with overflowing good.
For man, the child of God, there is no want,
No need for anxious thought or sense-bound fear;
Deep, living waters, whence we thirst no more,
Await the seeing eye and listening ear!
