Chanted by Will Fitzgerald

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(When I have nothing within to offer to God)

My praise does not flow
from a personal reservoir of abundance.
I am a sponge waiting for water.

Can any amount of internal vitality on my part
contribute to God’s supply?
I am a desert. God is an ocean.

Christ sits down beside the muddy well
where I keep trying to slake my thirst
and offers fresh water.

I open my mouth to praise God
and my faltering words do not ascend.
Instead God’s spirit descends.

Living water touches my tongue
before it soaks into my heart.
The springs of living water are songs of joy.