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AT THE LINN‐SIDE.
Roslin.
- O LIVING, living water,
- So busy and so bright,
- Aye flashing in the morning beams,
- And sounding through the night;
- O golden‐shining water—
- Would God that I might be
- A vocal message from His mouth
- Into the world, like thee!
- O merry, merry water,
- Which nothing e’er affrays;
- And as it pours from rock to rock
- Nothing e’er stops or stays;
- But past cool heathery hollows
- And gloomy pools it flows;
- Past crags that fain would shut it in
- Leaps through—and on it goes.
- O fresh’ning, sparkling water,
- O voice that’s never still,
- Though winter lays her dead‐white hand
- On brae and glen and hill;
- Though no leaf’s left to flutter
- In woods all mute and hoar,
- Yet thou, O river, night and day
- Thou runnest evermore.
- No foul thing can pollute thee;
- Thy swiftness casts aside
- All ill, like a good heart and true,
- However sorely tried.
- O living, living water,
- So fresh and bright and free—
- God lead us through this changeful world
- Forever pure, like thee!
