The streams of living water that flow from Jerusalem don't dry up in the scorching heat of midsummer. They don't freeze in the bitter winds of winter either. Rejoice, O my soul! You are still here to testify of the Lord's faithfulness.

The seasons change, and you change with them. But your Lord? He remains evermore the same. And the streams of his love run as deep, as broad, as full as they ever did.

When the heat of business cares rises, when scorching trials press in, that's when you most need the cooling influences of the river of his grace. Go at once! Drink to the full from that inexhaustible fountain. Summer or winter, it pours forth its flood. The upper springs are never scanty, and blessed be the name of the Lord, the nether springs cannot fail either.

Elijah watched Cherith dry up, but Jehovah remained the same God of providence. Job said his brethren were like deceitful brooks, but he found his God to be an overflowing river of consolation. Egypt trusts in the Nile, but its floods are variable. Our Lord is evermore the same. Cyrus took Babylon by turning the course of the Euphrates, but no power—human or infernal—can divert the current of divine grace.

The tracks of ancient rivers have been found all dry and desolate. But the streams that take their rise on the mountains of divine sovereignty and infinite love? They shall ever be full to the brim. Generations melt away like morning mist, but the course of grace is unaltered. The river of God may sing with greater truth than the brook in the poem: "Men may come and men may go, but I go on forever."

How happy you are, my soul, to be led beside such still waters! Never wander to other streams, lest you hear the Lord's rebuke: "What have you to do in the way of Egypt, to drink of the muddy river?"