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Mountain


THE SOURCE
 
This is the tale of a crystal stream,
That was born in the mountains high,
Primed by the tears of joy,
That fell from the Master's eye.
 
Guided by His loving hand,
On a path, round rock and stone,
It trickled slowly downward,
As it made its way from home.
 
Nurtured by sweet rains of Spring,
Empowered by fierce Winter storms,
The stream moved on with spirit,
As it became more fully formed
 
Bubbling, gurgling on its trek,
The happy stream made friends,
With plants, and flowers, and roots of trees,
Its contentment knew no end.
 
Its new found friends all drank with zest,
As the sparkling stream flowed by,
And greenery began to show,
As grass sprang up on either side. 
 
The stream grew in width and depth,
Until it became an awesome thing,
That gushed and rushed with restlessness,
A brand new entity, it seemed.
 
Now loosed in youthful frenzy,
It swept over cliffs and bluffs,
Stopping to form pools and ponds,
Before once more rushing off.
 
Then, as planned by the Master's hand,
The surging stream caught a welcomed sight,
Another current, deep and wide,
Splashing by in pure delight.
 
Ah!  A match made up in heaven,
The two united then as one,
And from that union, blest by God,
A majestic river was begun.
 
The river rolled on with energy,
Across the thirsting earth,
It nourished everything it touched,
So valuable its worth.
 
Yes, from tiny drops of moisture,
At a source too high to see,
Came the waters for the rivers,
And the oceans and the seas.
 
With just a smile and a tear,
God made the waters flow,
Just as He made the sun to shine,
And the moon and stars to glow. 
 
Man cannot duplicate God's work,
No matter how he tries,
The source of all belongs to God,
As, with joy, He provides.
 
Virginia (Ginny) Ellis
Copyright August 2005 ~ Updated 2008

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