As empty rivers wait for rain,
as burning deserts wait for dark,
as winter waits for spring again,
I wait to meet you in my heart.
You sought each bare, deserted spot
to be your refuge from the day;
so I seek you, O Son of God,
and offer you a place to stay.
The wind about it keens and howls—
the driven ragings of my mind—
but still, as bare as Satan's vows,
my heart could be your home and mine.
Oh, come to this deserted place
and make of it a place of springs
where every drop reflects you face
and every breeze for wonder sings!
You came as man, as dust from dust,
and so mere dust you glorified.
My barren ground cried out its thirst:
O Living Spring, break forth inside!
Kate Bluett 