Recently, I found great refreshment from this poem by Susan Coolidge, based on Psalm 110:7, "He shall drink from the brook along the way." It was in an old 19th Century volume in my collection, Guests of the Heart, by Adam Craig: The way is hot, the way is long, 'Tis weary hours to even-song, And we must travel though we tire; But all the time beside the road Trickle the small rills of God, At hand for our desire. Quick mercies, small amenities, Brief moments of repose and ease, We stoop, and drink, and so fare on, Unpausing, but re-nerved in strength From hour to hour, until at length, Night falleth, and the day is done. The birds sip of the wayside rill, And raise their heads in praises, still Upborne upon their flashing wings: So drinking thus along the way, Our little meed of thanks we pay To Him who fills the water spring. And deals with equal tenderness The larger mercies and the less: "O Lord, of good the