I am a tree , My fruit is bittersweet .
Ripened with all trial,My roots go way down deep.

I am a river ,Heaven is my source.
Petitioned by desire,with grace I take my course.

I am a precious ointment,smoothed on burdened brow
Refreshing scent my sweet perfume,anointing those who weep.

I am the Northern Star,leading slaves to freedom.
They follow me til they be free and rest beneath my brightness.

I am a heavenly language ,no worldly man can speak.
Nor the Angels who watch and wonder,Known only to the weak.