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Behold He Cometh With Clouds |
by Margaret Brewster |
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’Twas a fearful night in the town of Blyth, House ends were being blown in, Slates from the roof-tops flew round like kites In the storm of wind and rain. On the side of a house on Ballast hill A message stood clear and high, “Behold He cometh with clouds,” it said, “He’ll be seen by every eye.” Willie the preacher was praying aloud As the house began to sway, He was rejoicing, “He’s coming,” he cried, As the wind took the roof away. “Lord Thou knowest if Thou blow my house down Thou must mend it, I expect it please.” The storm abated, the wind ceased to roar, The family went down on their knees. Folk gathered round, “Willie’s house-top’s blown off”, They shouted aloud in their scorn, But he stood firm in his faith and declared, “The Lord will help Willie Horn.” “He knows I’ve no money to mend the roof, So I asked Him to send someone.” The very next day a slater appeared, In no time the roof was done. So all who think that the faithful are mad Or deluded or just plain silly, Remember the tale of the terrible storm, The slater, the roof and Willie. |
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