[A short meditation on a poem by Jones Very, “The Latter Rain,” 1842]
There was an early rain that fell on the ground and seemed to do no good. All was dry and nothing bloomed. The ground was cracked. There was dust in the air. No fruit. No grain. When the early rain fell, it seemed to do no good. The early rain came and went. And the ground drank in the water, but where was the fruit? Where was the grain? The early rain came and went, and all stood empty still.
Then the latter rains finally came. They came in anxious haste, water falling everywhere. It fell and fell. Was this the hoped for blessing? Was this the long awaited rain? No. Long before the latter rain came, the fruit was already ripe. The grain had already grown golden. The latter rain was eager to help, but the crop was already here.
All that had once received the early rain,
Declare to man it was not sent in vain.
Tom+