Last night as I lay sleeping,
I dreamed”oh blessed art!”
of fountain water leaping
and flowing in my heart.
“Where is the hidden channel,”
I cried, “that was equipped
to bring to me this spring of life
from which I never sipped?”
Last night as I lay sleeping,
I dreamed”oh blessed art!”
a hive of bees was reaping
its nectar in my heart.
The worker bees so golden
were filling up the cracks
with sorrows they converted
into honey and white wax.
Last night as I lay sleeping,
I dreamed”oh blessed art!”
a burning sun was steeping
the blood within my heart.
I know that it was burning.
I felt its heat inside.
I know that it was sunlight.
It shone, and then I cried.
Last night as I lay sleeping,
I dreamed”oh blessed art!”
that God himself was keeping
watch inside my heart.
Dear Reader,
Can I be direct with you?
War abroad. Socialists on the rise. AI upending human life. Endless uproar online. The modern attention economy doesn’t want readers — it wants users enslaved to the tyranny of the present.
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Our goal: Raise $150,000 by November 1 to sustain First Things in the year ahead.
Your gift anchors readers in the permanent things.
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