The Stream
When I journey along the stream,
that flows beside the meadow green,
I ask myself where does it go,
and why it wanders to and fro.
The answer it would seem to me,
is simply that it has to be,
for it to get from here to there,
it has to flow most everywhere.
Sometimes it curves around the bend,
a wondrous sight my sole to mend,
set in place by God's sovereign hand,
making earth a beautiful land.
Springing forth from mountains pristine,
it flows beside the meadow green,
oft times I hear it speak to me,
on its way to the crystal sea.
Heather Forsythe
age 10 @ 1992
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