Your Word becomes mercy drops to my brittle bones. Your voice is morning dew. A sense of Your presence is summer rain. Settle on me like a well-watered garden that Your reign might cause me to grow again.
Meditating on You causes a stream to run through my desert heart. I kneel and drink, that I might rise and follow. Replenish worthy desires in me. Amen.
O God, you are my God–for you I long! For you my body yearns; for you my soul thirsts, like a land parches, lifeless, and without water. Psalm 63:1