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sylvan and sacred. By the Rev. Richard Wilton

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WATER TURNED TO WINE.
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 


125

WATER TURNED TO WINE.

“‘Whate'er He saith to you,’
Whene'er He lifts an eye or waves a hand,
‘Servants,’ be ready to observe and ‘do’
His first, His least command.”
Such was the whispered word
Of Mary, waiting for the Master's “hour,”
Ere yet the Godhead in the manhood stirred,
To “manifest” its power.
But lo! the failing wine
The rising gladness of the banquet mars;
When, “Fill with water,” spake the voice Divine,
“Yon empty water jars.”

126

It seemed a bootless task;
But clear the order, though the drift was dim;
It was not theirs the meaning strange to ask:
“They filled them to the brim.”
Then at His Word they drew
From those full jars, what was not any more
Water, but fragrant scent and purple hue
Of choicest vintage bore.
Oh, fruitful is the toil
Of patient workers for the Lord of grace:
Duty and tears will yield them joyous spoil,
Water to wine give place.
Our daily task may seem
Like pouring water into jars of earth;
But wrought for Him, it wins a roseate gleam
And a celestial worth.

127

The cup of sorrow pale
Taken from hour to hour by trustful love—
A deepening lustre in it we shall hail,
Caught from a Face above.
A simple kindness done
To some poor sufferer for the Master's sake,
Like a grey cloud fired by the setting sun,
Shall into glory break.
Here for a season placed,
As servants we draw water at His will;
There as His guests the new wine we shall taste
On the Eternal hill!