That Sacred Spring – Francis Quarles

In Thee, dear Lord, my pensive soul respires;
Thou art the fullness of my choice desires;
Thou art that sacred spring, whose waters burst
In streams to him that seeks with holy thirst:
Thrice happy man, thrice happy thirst to bring
The fainting soul to so, so sweet a spring;
Thrice happy he, whose well-resolved breast
Expects no other aid, no other rest;
Thrice happy he, whose downy age hath been
Reclaimed by scourges from the prime of sin,
And, early seasoned with the taste of truth,
Remembers his Creator in his youth.

Francis Quarles (1592-1644)