I come from bitter waters
I rose up out of joy and pain
I arose out from the raging sea
To find rest in a place that I’ve fashioned
With pure hands and purest swoon
Bringing words of comfort, words of peace.
Words, no striving, salve for your wounds.
Come and rest where the weariest eyes graze
And the babbling brooks flow free with praise
Where calmer waters and leapers hands heal
And wearied men and servants kneel.
Where beaded brow won’t toil the ground.
Where struggles cease and grace abounds.
Come where bitter waters are made replete
Come where melancholy has taken her seat.
Sit down where the dew comes up,
And fill the hearts of the empty cups.
Come hither where all stains are cleaned
And come where transgressions cannot be seen.
Where hands are washed and all men atoned
Where no man suffers and no one groans.
Come to a place where the rooftops are high
And I’ll show you where my sorrows now lie.
I’ll show you their wounds, I’ll show you their end.
And I’ll show you days of solace, my friend.
Come where the bitter’s made sweet,
Come where your lack’s now replete.
Where dry lands flourish,
And the poor’s belly full.
Where the heart finds courage under a sovereign’s rule.
Come ye from bitter waters,
Come from where the heart’s tongue thirst.
Come out from that ole slave man’s curse,
Come into the house of my fathers.