Classic Poem

A FEW short hours ago, and all the land
Lay as in fever, faint and parched with drought;
And so had lain, while many a weary day
Dragged the long horror of its minutes out.

The juiceless fruits fell from the dusty trees;
The farmer doubted if the Lord was good,
As, sad, he watched the labor of his hands
Made useless by the Day-god's fiery mood.

The hot streets sickened in the burning glare;
The roadsides lost the glory of their green;
No second growth sprang up to glad the eye,
Where once the mower with his scythe had been.

A few short hours ago! And now, behold,
Freshness and beauty gleam on every side;
The earth has drunk its fill, and all about
The amber pools are stretching far and wide.

A million drops are flashing in the sun;
The springs far down the upper wonder know;
The farmer laughs, and little cares how fast
Through his torn hat the cooling streamlets flow.

And all the fields and pastures seem to say,
With joyous smile that I shall ne'er forget,
And all the flowers and trees in chorus join,
" We knew 'twould come! He never failed us yet. "

God of my life, as God of all beside,
This lovely wonder, which Thy hand hath wrought,
Quickens in thought the mercies manifold
Which Thy great love into my soul hath brought.

For I have lain, full oft, as hot and dry
As ever earth in summer's fiercest hour;
And the long days, slow creeping over me,
Brought me no tokens of Thy gracious power.

Then, at Thy word, down fell Thy spirit-rain;
I felt its coolness all my being through;
Made fresh and clean and joyous every whit,
I heard the whisper, " I make all things new. "

But mine, alas! was not the holy faith
The parched earth felt through all her thirsty hours;
I was in fear that never more again
Should I be quickened by the heavenly powers.

So shall it be no more; but though I lie
For many days as one Thou dost forget,
Recalling this glad hour, my heart shall say,
" I know 'twill come! He never failed me yet. "