Divining Rod

I watched a man with a forked stick as he paced slow about

‘Til that stick set in to quivering and the point leapt straight to ground

The point leapt straight to ground

Leapt straight to ground

 

He turned to me with a grin; said set the rig right here

There’s a river running across this hill; the water’s sweet and clear

The water is sweet and clear

Sweet and clear

 

I can’t tell you just how deep to drill, but trust me it’s down there

This stick ain’t never let me down no matter when or where

No matter when or where

When or where

  

I wish it were that easy Lord when it gets down to the living

To find that current flowing deep, to tap what gifts She’s given

To tap what gifts She has given

What gifts She’s given

 

Instead I walk a crooked course; the way is often hard

Unless I reach down in my soul for my own divining rod

For my own divining rod

Divining rod

 

Now if I hold on tight enough I may just feel the quiver

Of knowing the true taste of joy at home in my own river

At home in my own river

In my own river

 

I’m going home

For the first time in this lifetime

I’m going home

I will douse my way straight to the heart of it

I’m going home

Going home

Going home

 

 

Thomas Hubbard (9/11/2007)

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