Episode Two: The River

The River's water bids me come, That lilting, loving voice Of lapping and rushing that calls me home, Chorus of disarming choice. Standing at the water's edge, A bruised reed, I lean To see a rippled, obscure face, Hardened and unclean. But grace would not have it so, So then chose I to cloak Myself in the River (who is Christ, With His cleansing, healing soak). No sooner were the stains removed, That justice was appeased, And a voice from heaven, still and small cried, 'This is my son, in whom I am well pleased'.