The Rain

"Open, pretty buds," said he,
Open to the air and sun;
So, to-morrow I may see
What my rain to-day has done.
,
"Yes, you will, you will, I know,
For the drink I give you now,
Burst your little cups, and blow,
When I'm gone, and can't tell how!
,
"Oh! I wish I could but see
How God's finger touches you,
When your sides unclasp, and free,
Let your leaves and odors through.
,
"I would watch you all the night,
Nor in darkness be afraid,
Only once to see aright
How a beauteous flower is made.
,
"Now remember! I shall come
In the morning from my bed,
Here to find among you some
With your brightest colors spread!"
,
To his buds he hastened out,
At the dewy morning hour,
Crying, with a joyous shout,
"God has made of each a flower!"
,
Precious must the ready faith
Of the little children be,
In the sight of Him, who saith,
"Suffer them to come to me."
,
Answered, by the smile of heaven,
Is the infant's offering found,
Though "a cup of water given,"
Even to the thirsty ground.