Psalm 87 

As they make music they will sing, “All my fountains are in you” (v. 7, NIV).

Consider the bookends of this psalm: He has founded his city… (v. 1, NIV) and “All my fountains are in you” (v. 7). In other versions of this text, the fountains are called “springs”—those naturally occurring places where water comes to the surface. 

A city with plenty of springs is a fortunate city indeed. The NIV uses fountains, which immediately brings to mind all those human-made versions of springs, those wonderful dancing waters for which so many cities are known. We love fountains—even (or perhaps especially) the big, over-the-top ones like the Trevi Fountain in Rome. We are drawn to them. The psalmist suggests that God likes them, too.

Springs and fountains offer the unending, gushing, unrelenting gift of water—indeed, they are an infinite stream of life itself. Perhaps this is why humans build so many.

For a time, my wife and I lived in southeast Pennsylvania where we often visited Longwood Gardens to be transfixed by the Gardens’ many fountains, which are often choreographed to music. If the psalmist had written, “And there is music in those fountains,” that line would also be right. 

Springs and fountains offer the infinite gift of water that leads to life. What a joy to finally recognize the Source of our living and sing with those who proclaim, “All my fountains are in you.” 


How can my life be a fountain of God’s gifts?


God, thank you for springs, for fountains, for water, for the unending, infinite gift of your love. Amen.

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