There's a thirst in your soul,
A desert scorched and dry.
Where in lonely echoes role,
Your lost and bitter cry.

Drink from the sacred well,
The font of Gods pure grace.

With pain like a dagger,
And a mouth full of sand.
Delerious you stagger,
Through this foresaken land.

Drink from the sacred well,
The font of Gods pure grace.

When there's no hope in sight.
And your spirit is low.
And your day seems dark as night.
There's a place you can go.

Drink from the sacred well,
The font of Gods pure grace.

An oasis of life.
A place to be restored.
Safe from all your worldly strife.
Where you may meet the Lord.

Drink from the sacred well,
The font of Gods pure grace.

MJ Flack