And from the depths of his learning– singing into his heart, come the word of the poet-prophet, Isaiah;

.

The poor and needy search for water but find none

Their tongues are parched and dry

But I am there to be found. I will not forget

I will burst forth rivers from barren hills

Spout fountains in the valleys

I’ll turn the sun baked desert crust into a cool pond

I’ll make the wastelands into verdant streams

.

Fix your eyes on my servant

In whom I am well pleased