Straiton Pond in the Spring
Egypt’s water - the first we knew -
Turned to blood
At the twirl of a staff.
Glad were we when the Red Sea’s water
Left the Egyptian shore
Irretrievably cut off.
Bitter were we till Marah’s drink
Was transformed for us
By cast wood.
Fertility greeted us,
Seventy palm trees,
At the twelve springs of Elim.
We murmured, but it was the Rock
Which was smitten; the Rock
Which gave water.
And the Rock was willing
To follow; to serve water
At the lawgiver’s request.
After our wandering years
At last we could wield staves
To dig the well.
The last water, Jordan, dashed
Hopes; till the ark
Championed our passage.
We have been brought to a good land,
A land of waterbrooks, of springs,
And of deep waters,
That gush forth in the valleys and hills.
