The River Of God Is Full Of Water.' - Psalm. The Rushes Are Black By The River Bed, And The Sheep And The Cattle Stand Wistful-Eyed, Where The Waters Were, In A Waste Of Gravel And Sand; Or Pass O'Er Their Dying And Dead To Slake Their Thirst At The Slimy Pool. Shall They Pine And Perish In Pangs Of Drought While Thy River, O God, Is Full. The Fields Are Furrowed, The Seed Is Sown, But No Dews From The Heavens Are Shed; And Where Shall The Grain For The Harvest Be? And How Shall The Poor Be Fed? In Waterless Gullies They Winnow The Earth, New-Turned By The Miner'S Tool; And The Way-Farer Faints 'Neath His Lightened Load,1 Yet The River Of God Is Full. For Us, O Father, From Tropic Seas, Let The Clouds Be Filled That Shed Rough Rains Upon Andes' Eastward Slope, Soft Snows On Him'Leh'S Head. Freight For Us As For Others Thy Dark-Winged Fleet, That Soon By The Waters Cool, We May Say With Gladness, 'Our Need Was Great, But The River Of God Was Full!'