"He ma-keth light-nings for the rain;
He bring-eth the wind out of His trea-sur-ies."--Ps. CXXXV. 7.
Our God who reign-est up on high,
Though light-nings flash a-cross the sky,
And howl-ing tem-pests hur-ry by,
We fear not these, for Thou art nigh
To all who trust in Thee.
Though now the sky is o-ver-cast,
And hea-vy rains are fall-ing fast,
And storm and sleet go driv-ing past,
And day by day the moan-ing blast
Sweeps dead leaves from the tree,
No-vem-ber time, that seems so drear,
When days are dark and win-ter near,
Will pass at length, and Christ-mas cheer
The last hours of the dy-ing year
With song and dance and mirth.
And in due time Thy mighty pow-er
Will give the spring, with sun and shower,
The o-pen-ing leaf, the ear-ly flow-er,
And birds in e-ve-ry wood-land bow-er
Will sing to glad-den earth.
[Illustration: HE MAKETH LIGHTNINGS
FOR THE RAIN; HE BRINGETH THE
WIND OUT OF HIS TREASURIES.