The Rain Came Thundering Down

When I was very young and it was night                  

the rain came thundering down the inky sky,                        

pounding out its merry melody

on the tin roof of Mary Dealey’s cottage;                 

A sturdy noble rain hammering on the roof,                          

drumming out its fearful marching sound,    

a military marching rain, roaring

echoing in the one room cabin.

                                   

From that night on I have loved the rain,

all the rain, the hammering rain, the spluttering rain,

the wind driven rain pounding on the ground,

and the little gentle drizzle falling all around.

The falling rain washes all the earth,

washes grass and leaves, flowers and trees,

washes little rocks and mighty boulders,

washes clean the very air we breathe.

O ye wind and rain; bless ye the Lord;

O ye cabins with tin roofs; bless ye the Lord;

O ye grass and leaves; bless ye the Lord;

O ye flowers and trees, bless ye the Lord;

O ye little rocks and boulders, bless ye the Lord;

O my joyful rain washed soul; bless ye the Lord; 

Praise Him and magnify Him forever.