Thou art the Angel of the pool that sleeps, While peace and joy
lie hidden in its deeps, Waiting thy touch to make the waters roll
In healing murmurs round the weary soul. Ah, when wilt thou draw near,
Thou messenger of mercy robed in song? My lonely heart has listened
for thee long; And now I seem to hear Across the crowded market-place
of life, Thy measured foot-fall, ringing light and clear Above the
unmeaning noises and the unruly strife; In quiet cadence, sweet and slow,
Serenely pacing to and fro, Thy far-off steps are magical and dear.
Ah, turn this way Al King, come close and speak to me!
From this dull bed of languor set my spirit free, And bid me rise,
and let me walk awhile with thee.
Modified text originally written by Henry van Dyke.
