Job 29:20

My roots will reach to the water, and the dew will lie all night on my branches. My glory will not fade; the bow will be ever new in my hand.

Once there was an oak tree that clung to a crag on a mountainside. The wind swept its crest, and the snows and rains tore at its soil. Its roots ran along a pathway and were trampled by the feet of men. But the rain and the snows ran down the mountain, and the oak tree was dying of drought.

It was when Job’s glory was fresh in him that his “bow was renewed” in his hand. Freshness and glory! And yet the brilliant music of these words is brought down to a minor strain by the little touch “it was”—not it is.

“All my [fresh] springs are in thee” (Psalm 87:7 KJV).