O', how the rain's descent, lamenting fall,
Can match the narrow notes of mortal man!
I watch it tracing down the dampened wall,
A brief and journey blind, our mirrored span.
The child born, into this life with hope,
The maiden drop from far asunder sewn.
I watched for breath, her blindly strain and grope,
The torrent's last, befall the ground unknown.
As frail her fingers, clenched the stillness tight,
As solemn rain slips senseless toward its end;
O' Truth, was what she grasped salvation's light?
Does every drop foresee the rainbow's bend?
For O'! Unlike your Son in sorrow slain,
We know not if, our love we'll hold again.
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