Send Rain, O Lord, Send Rain!
By Helen Adair
THE harvest time is almost here,
But flowers and fruits and grain
Are drying up, and turning sear,
And languishing for rain. The soil is baked, and hard as stone;
The very beasts complain;
The earth, with open mouth, doth moan;
"Send rain, O Lord, send rain!" As pants the hart, we pant for thee;
All earthly help is vain;
O, hearken to our humble plea:
"Send rain, O Lord, send rain!" "I will pour water," thou hast said,
"Upon the soul athirst,
And floods, where Want and Famine tread,
Upon the ground accursed." The latter rain is due, O Lord,
To ripen off the grain,
The time foretold within thy Word,
When we must ask for rain. We claim thy promise, thy "bright cloud;"
O, send thy showers again
"To every herb," as thou hast vowed!
Send rain, O Lord, send rain! By faith we hear the freshening breeze,
And see the lightning's glare;
We know that thou hast heard our plea:
"Prepare us, Lord, prepare!"