From Rude Rural Rhymes by Bob Adams, New York: The Macmillan Company; 1925; pp. 155-156.
STAGNANT WATERS
O pure and cool rise crystal springs,
In God’s most holy hills,
Refreshing drink for human lips,
They feed a thousand rills.
But stained and cursed by careless use,
The waters of the plain
Creep onward in a tainted flood,
Slow moving to the main.
My life is like a stream that slips
Through green and pleasant land;
Fair are the trees and flowers that crown
The banks on either hand.
Yet, fed by fountains that are meant
To comfort and to bless,
Its sluggish pools are choked with weeds
And darks with selfishness.
O cleansing flood of God sweep through
This stagnant soul of mine,
Release the sediments of sin,
Replace my thoughts with thine.
Break down the barriers old and strong,
Set all the channel free,
Free to receive and free to give
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The life that flows from thee.
So may my own heart, more and more
The mighty forces know,
That swelled within the soul of Christ
Two thousand years ago.