Who cuts a channel for the torrents of rain,
and a path for the thunderstorm,
to water a land where no one lives,
an uninhabited desert,
to satisfy a desolate wasteland
and make it sprout with grass?
Does the rain have a father?
Who fathers the drops of dew?
and a path for the thunderstorm,
to water a land where no one lives,
an uninhabited desert,
to satisfy a desolate wasteland
and make it sprout with grass?
Does the rain have a father?
Who fathers the drops of dew?
Job 38: 25-28
Beneath the tumbled awning
Of a thunder-laden tress
A sudden jolt of dawning
Amplifies our nothingness
How oft have we, with troubled gaze
Traversed unfathomed deeps
Longing to understand the ways
Of One who never sleeps
But as we search the astral plains
From porticos of dust
He cuts a channel for the rains
…all we can do is trust
…in Him, who has a higher thought
Than man can realize
Beneath His touch nature is taught
And man, if he is wise
Beneath the tumbled awning
Of a thunder-laden tress
He whispers to our longing
And He fills our nothingness
© Janet Martin