well dug long ago by pious hands, whither the maidens come with their
jars at eventide, when the stone is rolled away, to water the thirsty
flocks; or the living fountain, under the shadow of a great rock in a
weary land, with its grove of trees, where all the birds for many a
mile flock in, and shake the copses with their song; its lawn of
green, on which the long-dazzled eye rests with refreshment and
delight; its brook, wandering away--perhaps to be lost soon in
burning sand, but giving, as far as it flows, Life; a Water of Life
to plant, to animal, and to man.

All these images, which we have to call up in our minds one by one,
presented themselves to the mind of an Eastern, whether Jew or
heathen, at once, as a well-known and daily scene; and made him feel,
at the very mention of a water-spring, that the speaker was telling
him of the good and beautiful gift of a beneficent Being.

And yet--so do extremes meet--like thoughts, though not like images,
may be called up in our minds, here in the heart of London, in murky
alleys and foul courts, where there is too often, as in the poet's
rotting sea -


'Water, water, everywhere,
Yet not a drop to drink.'


And we may bless God--as the Easterns bless Him for the ancestors who
digged their wells--for every pious soul who now erects a drinking-
fountain; for he fulfils the letter as well as the spirit of
Scripture, by offering to the bodies as well as the souls of men the