That night he awoke, and heard the blessed rain falling; at first, gently, and then with power. He thanked the Merciful Giver, and remembered the words, "Can all the vanities of the heathen give rain? or can the heavens without Him, give showers?"
In the morning, when the rain had ceased, he walked in his garden. He rejoiced, with his plants and flowers, in the great goodness of God, Their long season of sorrow had made them dearer to him, as the parent loveth the child who has been sick with a more tender love.
But now their time of suffering was past. The grape-vine, having put on beauty for ashes, wore at every point of its broad leaves a pearl: and the honey-suckle, which was thought to have been dying, was heard teaching its young tendrils where to twine.
The willow, whose long wands had turned yellow, from disease, was weeping for joy. Every infant blossom tried to tell of its new happiness. Birds carolled from the nest, and breathed into their silent praise a living soul.
As he passed among the shrubbery, every reaching bough shed on him a few chrystal drops. They seemed to have saved for the
