The Freeman

We know not the value of blessings enjoyed,
'Tis only when they're fled far away,
When their long absence makes our hopes void,
O, then we long for one cheering ray.
When the sweet rain descended in showers,
Clothing with verdure the plain and the field,
Rearing with smiles our loved garden flowers,
Did our hearts then due gratitude yield?
Now when the clouds are as fickle as we,
Promising oft to open their stores,
The value of rain all clearly see,
Hope it may come when e'er the wind roars;
The blest rainy day! did we despise it?
It curtailed our work, dampened our pleasure,
And did we then properly prize it?
When each drop to the earth was a treasure.
Return rainy day, thou art a blessing,
Tho' feet in the mud, cloths through were wet,
We'd joy, thy libations possessing.
Thy sweet precious drops we'd ne'er forget.
Ye exhalations from lakes and rivers,
Float not away to far distant land,
Condense in soft rain, come here and give us
Tribute, we have good right to demand.
There's water enough in world and the sky.
Were not the rough winds so capricious,
Yes, wasting every laden cloud by,
Depriving us of rights the most precious,
Then O, ye winds, I charge ye, henceforth,
Let each thirsty land have its due share,
In all your dominions, from South to the North,
Then we'll have water, and some to spare.
But to Him who rules Earth, sky and sea.
Be our prayer, and warm supplication,
That mercy will from drouth set us free,
And save us still from fearful starvation.
My offering, O Lord, on thy altars laid,
To Thee be as precious as Elijah's of old,
O, may thy rains no longer be staid,
We beseech Thee, the blessing no longer withhold