Wide, Deep River

by J. S. MOODEY
HE makes old songs to something new
And chords them on a small guitar,
Christ Jesus crucified for you
And Old Joe propped behind a bar; Or black and beautiful lament
More full of sorrow than we know:
Egypt land where Moses went
And all the roads sweet chariots go.
The stream of song is deep and wide
And moving. Who will float therein
Can feel the elemental tide
That past all pain and joy has been:
Wide singing tide that, being known,
All voices say, It is my own.