by Eva

The drought is come.  How hot and dry the thirsty land!
A barren and most desolate land,
Where cracked, parched lips cry out in vain for rain
And not a drop is found to water earth or ease her pain.
How to reverse the curse that has plagued the soul of man?
Not mirth, I say, but tears shall reach and touch
The Master's hand.
O' humbled soul, take leave and wail before G-D's throne!
Repent, cry out, turn from your sin, and cease to roam!
Seek G-D's face!  His Name alone be glorified.
Prepare for rain, ye saints of His;  In Him abide!
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