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.
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.