MOORE'S SPRING

(In Honor Of One Who Lived Here)

This hill is where he staked his claim,

And in these words you find his name.

A sense of Jordan I elicit

Every time I chance to visit

Here to quench my thirst again.

The hill that fed him at her breast

Now gives his mortal body rest.

Five score years have come and gone

Since first his eyes lay upon

The ground his name has blessed.

This stone was struck with Moses' rod,

And why he chose this Ozark sod.

Coming here, he found his place,

Made a family, with heaven's grace,

And sealed his covenant with God.

To this quiet, shadowed glade

Few have sojourned, none have stayed.

Yet waters of life still burst forth

Clear and cold from rocky earth

In the Eden he surveyed.

Gnarled and tangled vines are crept

Along the path now unstepped.

Kneel and sip from cupped hand.

Drink the spirit of the man.

Learn a sacred promise kept.

Nothing wrought by man still stands,

But this emblem of his life demands

We come in solemn silence here,

And offer up a thankful prayer

For one man's life, divinely planned.

(Daniel’s name is hidden in line 3 of the poem)

Copyright 2014 Ken Ragan