Spring

A righteous man falling down before the wicked is as a troubled fountain, and a corrupt spring.

The hay appeareth, and the tender grass sheweth itself, and herbs of the mountains are gathered.

Therefore with joy shall ye draw water out of the wells of salvation.

Why is my pain perpetual, and my wound incurable, which refuseth to be healed? wilt thou be altogether unto me as a liar, and as waters that fail?