Five little pebbles lay in a brook,
Five little pebbles hid in a nook.
`What are we good for?' one said to another.
'Little or nothing, I'm thinking, my brother.'
Wearing away day after day—
It seemed that forever those pebbles must stay.
If they were flowers ever so gay,
Doubtless someone would take them away;
Or if they were big stones that builders could use,
Perhaps then some builder those big stones would choose.
Wait, little pebbles, rounded and clean,
Long in your loneliness lying unseen,
God has a future waiting for you
Five little pebbles, sturdy and true.
Five little pebbles hid in a brook.
David came down and gave them a look,
Picked them up carefully out of the sand:
Five little pebbles lay in his hand.
Hark! there is shouting and fighting today,
And boldly these pebbles are borne to the fray:
One of them chosen and put in a sling.
Would we have thought that a stone could thus wing?
Onward it sped with a might not its own:
Onward it sped, by a shepherd boy thrown;
Swift as an arrow, straight as a dart!
For the whole nation that stone did its part,
Striking the giant's great, terrible head,
Laying him low—a mighty man dead.
Five little pebbles found in a brook
Are mentioned with honor in God's holy Book.
Be thou a pebble, contented and low,
Ever kept clean by His Spirit's pure flow,
Hidden and ready till Jesus shall look
And choose you, and use you, a stone from the brook.
(1 Sam. 17. 40)