Of cistern waters art thou sick,

Of cistern waters art thou sick,
And loath'st the mire they bring?
Then hither stretch thy thirsty neck,
And taste a living spring.

A spring that issues from a rock,
Where purest waters flow;
And rocky hearts, by Moses struck,
May to these waters go.

No spring will quench a thirst like this;
It makes a conscience whole,
Inspires the heart with heavenly bliss,
And purifies the soul.

Whoe'er can truly say, "I thirst,"
May come and take his fill;
'Tis free for sinners, vile and lost;
'Tis God who works the will.

Its owner is a heavenly King;
And by his winning ways,
He draws the thirsty to his spring,
Who drink and sing his praise.

Lord, draw me by thy secret touch,
Or backward I shall start;
For sure I want entreating much,
So fearful is my heart.