THE GARDEN AND THE RAIN. 107 



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, &quot; Can all the vanities 

 of the heathen give rain ? or can the heavens 

 without Him, give showers?&quot; 



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 ten 

 der 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 



