A traveler sits before me weary from his journey
And so thirsty
He drops a pail within me only to come up empty
And I'm sorry
But I'm a dry well, no water here as you can tell
Maybe he should move along
I know what he needs but I cannot offer anything
I'm thirsty myself
I'm a dry well
A woman brings her basket, her children run up faster
For they're hungry
And with hopeful glances they desperately search my branches
For something sweet
But I'm a dying tree, no fruit here as you can see
Maybe they should move along
I know what they need but I cannot offer anything
I, too, am hungry
I'm a dying tree
How many times have I been unable
To supply the thing they really need
For lack of growth within myself
No filling up, no pouring out
The Spirit's wisdom, truth, and love, and peace
Am I a pale light barely breaking through the night
That doesn't last for long
Oh, that I might be a radiant glow, a brilliant beam
An abundant well, a fruitful tree
That they might know me