There Is A Bleak Desert, Where Daylight Grows Weary Of Wasting Its Smile On A Region So Dreary-- What May That Desert Be? 'Tis Life, Cheerless Life, Where The Few Joys That Come Are Lost, Like That Daylight, For 'Tis Not Their Home. There Is A Lone Pilgrim, Before Whose Faint Eyes The Water He Pants For But Sparkles And Flies-- Who May That Pilgrim Be? 'Tis Man, Hapless Man, Thro' This Life Tempted On By Fair Shining Hopes, That In Shining Are Gone. There Is A Bright Fountain, Thro' That Desert Stealing To Pure Lips Alone Its Refreshment Revealing-- What May That Fountain Be? 'Tis Truth, Holy Truth, That, Like Springs Under Ground, By The Gifted Of Heaven Alone Can Be Found. There Is A Fair Spirit Whose Wand Hath The Spell To Point Where Those Waters In Secrecy Dwell-- Who May That Spirit Be? 'Tis Faith, Humble Faith, Who Hath Learned That Where'Er Her Wand Bends To Worship The Truth Must Be There!