“And he cried unto the Lord, and the Lord showed him a tree, which when he had cast into the waters, the waters were made sweet.”—Exodus, xv. 23-25.
Where is the tree the prophet threw
Into the bitter wave?
Left it no scion where it grew,
The thirsting soul to save?
Hath nature lost the hidden power
Its precious foliage shed?
Is there no distant Eastern bower
With such sweet leaves o’erspread?
Nay, wherefore ask?—since gifts are ours