The Rain
Like a gentle joy descending,
To the earth a glory lending,
Comes the pleasant rain;
Fairer now the flowers are growing,
Fresher now the winds are blowing,
Gladder waves the grain;
Grove and forest, field and mountain,
Bathing in the crystal fountain,
Drinking in the inspiration,
Offer up a glad oblation;
All around, about, above us.
Things we love, the things that love us,
Bless the gentle rain.
Beautiful, and still, and holy,
Like the spirit of the lowly,
Comes the quiet rain;
’Tis a fount of joy distilling,
And the lyre of earth is trilling,
Swelling to a strain;
Nature opens wide her bosom,
Bursting buds begin to blossom;
To her very soul ’tis stealing,
All the springs of life unsealing;
Singing stream and rushing river
Drink it in, and praise the Giver
Of the blessed rain.
by Laura A. Boies
Like a gentle joy descending,
To the earth a glory lending,
Comes the pleasant rain;
Fairer now the flowers are growing,
Fresher now the winds are blowing,
Gladder waves the grain;
Grove and forest, field and mountain,
Bathing in the crystal fountain,
Drinking in the inspiration,
Offer up a glad oblation;
All around, about, above us.
Things we love, the things that love us,
Bless the gentle rain.
Beautiful, and still, and holy,
Like the spirit of the lowly,
Comes the quiet rain;
’Tis a fount of joy distilling,
And the lyre of earth is trilling,
Swelling to a strain;
Nature opens wide her bosom,
Bursting buds begin to blossom;
To her very soul ’tis stealing,
All the springs of life unsealing;
Singing stream and rushing river
Drink it in, and praise the Giver
Of the blessed rain.
by Laura A. Boies