It doesn’t rain unless there’s a storm, The sky must darken, the winds transform. Yet in the turmoil, drops descend, To cleanse, to heal, and hearts to mend.
The thunder rolls, the night may cry, But grace falls gently from the sky. For rain, though born in tempest’s roar, Brings life to roots and strength to soar.
Showers of blessing, strangely disguised, Come wrapped in trials we never prized. Yet through the pain and bitter strife, They pour down hope and nourish life.
And when the storm has passed us by, A hush will settle on the sky. The sun breaks through, the world made new— And peace will come, serene and true.
So let the clouds roll overhead, Let faith be stronger than our dread. For after storms, God’s love is shown, And we are never left alone.
Psa 30:5 weeping may endure for a night, but joy cometh in the morning.
