At noon she walked the sun-struck road,
Her waterpot against her side;
The town lay far beyond the dust,
The ancient well was dark and wide.

A weary Man sat by the stone,
Road-dust upon His clothes;
He raised His eyes to meet her own,
A gentle question rose.

“Please give Me a drink.”

“How can You ask this thing of me?
You are a Jew — I am Samaritan.
Why cross the lines that stand between
Our people and this well?”

“If you knew the gift of God,
You would ask of Me;
I would give you living water,
Life that rises free.”

“Sir, You have no rope or jar,
The well is deep and old;
Are You greater than our father Jacob,
Who gave this water cold?”

“Who drinks this water thirsts again;
The water I give will be
A spring of everlasting life,
Rising up within.”

“Sir, give this living water now,
That I may thirst no more;
Give me the life You promise here,
The river at my door.”

Living water, rise in me,
Where every strength runs dry;
A spring no rope can ever draw,
A life that will not die.

Living water, gift of God,
Bring me to the Father’s heart;
Teach my thirsty heart to worship
In Your Spirit and Your truth.

“Go, call your husband.”

“I have no husband,” she replied;
The noon air held its breath.

He knew the story underneath,
The losses and the pain;
His knowing carried no contempt,
His mercy still remained.

“Sir, I can see You are a prophet.
Our fathers worshipped here;
But where may thirsty hearts draw near?
Where does the Father hear?”

“The Father seeks true worshippers,
In Spirit and in truth;
An hour has come for all who thirst
To come to God anew.”

“I know Messiah comes one day;
He will make all things clear.”

“I who speak to you am He.”

Living water, rise in me,
Where every strength runs dry;
A spring no rope can ever draw,
A life that will not die.

Living water, gift of God,
Bring me to the Father’s heart;
Teach my thirsty heart to worship
In Your Spirit and Your truth.

The hand that asked her for a drink
Would bear the nails in love;
The Giver of the living water
Would thirst upon the cross.

From His pierced side came blood and water,
Mercy flowing wide;
The way into the Father’s house
Was opened through His side.

She left the waterpot by the stone,
Her hands were free to run;
No finished sermon on her lips,
Only what He had done.

“Come, see a Man who knew my life!”

Her breathless witness rang;
The road that held her loneliness
Soon filled with feet again.

Now we know: this is the Christ,
The Saviour of the world;
He meets the thirsty in the dust,
His living water flows.

Now we know: this is the Christ,
The Father calls us near;
In Spirit and in truth we come,
And find His mercy here.

Come and see.

The Saviour of the world.