A white haze glimmered on the hills,
The vales were parched and dry,
And glaringly the burning sun
Coursed in the summer sky.
The cattle, in the distant woods
Sought shelter from its beams,
Or, motionless and patient stood,
Knee-deep, amid the streams.
The house-dog lay with panting breath
Close where the elm trees grew;
The bluebird and the oriole
To shady coverts flew.
Day after day the thirsty earth
Looked up to heaven for rain;
The gardens held their flower-cups,
The fields their lips of grain.
With doubting hearts, men, murmuring, said,
"Our toils have been in vain;
We sowed in spring, but shall not reap
When autumn comes again."
But while they spoke, within the west,
At sunset's glowing hour,
God's voice proclaimed in thunder tones
The coming of the shower!
The deepening shadows slowly crept
O'er mountain and o'er plain,
Until in cool and copious floods
Came down the blesséd rain.
All nature smiled; and when at last
The cloudy wings were furled,
The evening star shone regally
Above a thankful world.
O love of Heaven! O fear of men!
O faith so cold and dim!
When shall we own the ways of God,
And learn to trust in Him?
