As softly falling rain on parched ground,
When summer drought hath spent itself at last,
With gentle touch softens and penetrates
The hardness of its cracked and arid face,
Bidding the lowly herb and drooping flower
Uplift their cups to the refreshing draft,
And perfumes to arise at its behest
To pour their fragrance on the limpid air;
So may Thine angel thoughts o'er me descend,
Those thoughts, that ever pass from God to man,
Telling of freedom of a mind made pure
When sense of self and sin hath passed away;
And with Thy truth inspire my stubborn heart,
Grown heavy 'neath a weight of doubt and fear,
To feel its holy influence all-divine,
And, like the thirsty flower, uplift my face
To drink of Thine abundance and rejoice.
Then, as the perfume, may my thoughts arise,
Diffusing sweet aroma all around,
To help and heal the weary hearts of men,
That they may feel Love's tender ministry,
And joy to find Life's richer, fuller bloom
Within the gladness of their gratitude,
And rest content. O Father, shed on me
The softly falling rain of Thy divinity.
Poems
AS SOFTLY FALLING RAIN
From the August 1937 issue of The Christian Science Journal
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