The Fountain

I have not grown weary of revival
 But all the time that lapses in between
 In search for endless joy, my patience I destroy
 'Til mercy opens up a mountain stream
 I go to the fountain, I go to the well
 I hear in the waves the echoes of His voice saying
 "Peace be still"
 My hands are worn, my lips are sore and dry until
 I go to the fountain
 All the saints together form a garden
 And beauty is the riches of its fold
 Even in the rain, its beauty will remain
 For water is its silver and its gold
 And in that moment when you see the dove descending
 He will be revealed
 And in that moment when the water washes over
 We will be set free
 words and music by Joshua Moore / ©2006 Joshmooreownsthis Music (ASCAP) (adm. by Music Services)